Bae Joohyun was getting too old for this. Sure, this elective was the one that appealed most to her, and was the easiest by far, but being paired up with an ex due to their ‘undeniable chemistry’ has happened one too many times. She’d asked herself if Cho Taehyun genuinely believed that, or if she had some sick desire to torture her due to some grudge she probably held against her. With this kind of pattern, one would think Taehyun had some shade to throw at Joohyun. Either that or Taehyun was just a bigger airhead than she would ever admit she was. And the latter seemed much more plausible. #NotShade.

In her short time as director, and in the course of a year, Taehyun had directed nine different films. And in almost all nine films, Joohyun was paired with her ex of the time. However, the ‘undeniable chemistry’ was undeniably there; anyone could see it, so she put her arguments to rest.

‘But this?’ she thought, ‘This isn’t cool.’

Joohyun sat at the edge of a luxurious bed. To her left, Sehun sat in the darkness, a pair of large wings folded against his back, peeking through into the light. In front of them, Taehyun was behind a monitor, restlessly tapping her foot against the ground, staring intently at everything from their expressions, to the contrast between the lighting, to the tiniest detail.

“Yuri,” Taehyun spoke up, “Let me take over the lights for a second.” She abruptly went over and began adjusting the direction of the stand lights to the slightest degree; tilting back and forth until she felt it was just right.

She placed herself behind the monitor again, only to back up after noticing that the props team needed help with moving the larger, heavier props onto the set that Jonghyun so generously ‘let them borrow’ since he just ‘had one lying around’ because of ‘his job as a fashion consultant’ thus ‘he needed it for photoshoots’.

And again, instead of reviewing the last few frames, she strode over to Sunyoung, who’d just changed into her costume.

“Hm,” Taehyun breathed, “It doesn’t look a hundred percent how I envisioned it to be.” She called Jonghyun over, pointing at the jewelry Sunyoung adorned.

“Too much bling, Bling,” Taehyun remarked, “And way too little color. I can’t believe I’m telling you that. Colorful fabrics were popular during that time. More color. Just avoid purples and scarlet, unless they’re royalty, militants, or Gods, alright?” Jonghyun nodded. Snapping his finger, the clothes gathered themselves back together for an upgrade.

That wasn’t the end of Taehyun’s micromanagement.

“She’s acting up again,” Joohyun complained to no one in particular, “She always wasting everyone’s time over things that people don’t even notice.”

“What does she do exactly?” Sehun inquired, observing the buzzing director.

“Nitpick at everything,” she added, “She doesn’t let anyone do their work by themselves. She always finds a way to in. Although to be honest, the film always ends up looking good in the end.”

“You always look good in the end,” Sehun flirted, shifting his weight so he was looking directly at her. The moment he said that, he started to question his own confidence in his flirting abilities. He figured that maybe he was overestimating himself in that department. Which he totally was. He’s about as smooth as sand paper.

Joohyun cringed, falling into a deep frown.

“You’re disgusting,” she replied, scratching her head in annoyance, “What does that even mean…? Can you stop doing that?”

“Stop doing what?” Sehun queried, innocently. Joohyun was worried about smile lines, but now the impending appearance of frown lines seemed to be a much more probable reality.

“Oh my God,” she said, aggravated, “I don’t think you get it. I don’t like you. I think I’ve made that more than clear—”

“Baechu, my lovely head of Lettuce,” Sehun said, cutting her off, “Before I said yes to this role, a little birdy told me that our so called, nitpicking director, has the best eye when it comes to casting. And she paired us together. It’s meant to be.”

“So what if she paired us up together,” Joohyun retorted, “What’s that supposed to mean? She probably just heard about us and figured it’d be an easy casting choice. An easily aggravating casting choice.”

“I didn’t know you were this dumb,” Sehun pointed out, earning a scoff from the former, “You really can’t read into it? Whatever. You know what they say: ‘You can’t win against a pigeon at chess.’”

“Did you just compare me to a pigeon?” Joohyun asked, hand threateningly in the air, ready to slap him when she feels it necessary.

“Sorry,” Sehun apologized, “For you, it should be: ‘A head of lettuce can’t even play the game, so don’t even bother.’” Ah, there’s the slap. Although it hurt, Sehun gladly accepted any kind of contact—especially skinship—with her.

The two bickered away, while the buzzing director was still buzzing away.

Taehyun was hovering over someone, watching as they were setting up an extra stand light for Sunyoung and Jinki’s set. The girl was thin, almost a little frail looking. Taehyun pressed in closer, placing a hand on the stand to stabilize it, just in case.

“Sooyoung,” she said, “You’re a freshie, right?” When she didn’t get an immediate response, it hit Taehyun that she wasn’t.

“I’m a third year, too.” Sooyoung stated, awkwardly. Taehyun felt her face redden.

“Sorry,” she apologized, “You just look young for your age.”

“Is it because this is my first year in the drama club?” Sooyoung questioned. Taehyun laughed.

“Spot on,” she remarked. Sooyoung nodded her head, smiling.

“We’ve met before,” she added, “Maybe you don’t remember, but I do. It was when we were freshies?” Taehyun thought hard, but if she mistook her for a freshman, she’d have an even worse time even trying to remember a Park Sooyoung from years ago.

“In the library…?” Sooyoung quickly added, “You were sick?” Taehyun’s eyes widened. Granted, it could’ve been any other day where she was sick and in the library, because it was a frequent occurrence. She didn’t have to rack her brain. One distinct memory stood out.

“No way,” Taehyun exclaimed, “That was you?” Sooyoung nodded, her hands meeting over her head to make a large ‘O’.

“I was the stepping stone of a beautiful relationship,” Sooyoung mused, grinning, “Lee Jinki came in, looking for his princess, Cho Taehyun; and there she was, really in some serious distress, fighting off a nasty virus.”

Taehyun smiled, but it didn’t stay there for long.

“Did you say he was looking for me?” Taehyun asked, “Not Choi Taehyun?”

“Who’s Choi Taehyun?” Sooyoung asked in return, puzzled, “No, no, no. I really remember him specifically asking me if ‘A Cho Taehyun, freshman, about yea high, was in here?’. I was the one behind the desk who let you borrow the books, so I knew your name. Then I pointed at you. Then I left.”

“Ah,” Taehyun managed to let out, almost completely at a lack of words, “Was that how it went? Man, we’re the same age but my memory’s worse than yours.” She had a record for saying things she didn’t mean, and it looks like she wasn’t thinking of breaking it any time soon.

“What did he need from you?” Sooyoung asked. Taehyun shrugged; mentally asking herself the same question.

“Who knows,” Taehyun lamely replied.

“Oh! Speak of the Devil!” Sooyoung waved towards Jinki, who was looking godly, bronzed up, and highlighted enough to blind unsuspecting bystanders. Taehyun forced a smile. He walked over, unknowingly walking right into the lion’s den. Yep. Right into the lion’s den; right before he was ripped to shreds.

Taehyun whistled lowly at the sight of him.

“Looking good, champ,” Taehyun remarked, “Which reminds me… Sooyoung good job with the lights. I’ll talk to you later. But by the looks of it, Apollo here has to make one more visit to our fashion coordinator.” She abruptly took Jinki by the wrist, pulling him in the direction to where Jonghyun obviously wasn’t; calling out for him as if she were looking for him.

Taehyun brought him all the way to a secluded part of the set, putting a good distance between herself and the decked-out Apollo.

“Jinki,” she said, eyeing him carefully, “How did we first meet again?” Jinki was taken aback by the sudden question.

“I’m just testing you,” Taehyun said, feigning a laugh, “It’s an important memory to me.”

‘Please’, she thought, ‘Please just let me be paranoid—’

“I happened to mix up a Cho Taehyun for a Choi Taehyun,” Jinki said, looking up to the right, “And the rest is history.” Taehyun’s heart sank. His warm smile wasn’t enough to reach her heart, which was already freezing over.

“Liar,” she said, “Tell me honestly, Lee Jinki. Tell me why you looked for me. Specifically, me; Cho Taehyun, freshman, about yea high.”

Taehyun wasn’t prepared for the darkness that was suddenly cast upon her kind, warm Jinki’s face.