“Your makeup's messed up, hyung,” Jongup says lightly.

“Is it?” Daehyun asks absently.

“Yeah. Here, I'll fix it,” Jongup offers. He swipes a nearby sponge and dabs at Daehyun's forehead. He probably should have just sent him back to the stylist noonas (Jongup is by no means a makeup artist), but it's just a little foundation. He can fix that much. Any excuse to spend a little one-on-one time with Daehyun, at any rate. “You're working so hard, you're just sweating it all off.”

Daehyun chuckles. “This happens so often, it makes it seem pointless. But I guess,” he adds, “we'd probably be horrified to see ourselves onscreen without it, huh?”

“I think you look good either way, hyung,” Jongup tells him, continuing to dab at his forehead, “with or without the makeup.”

Daehyun beams, and something in Jongup's chest swells and flutters. “Thanks, Jonguppie,” Daehyun says. “And thanks for fixing it for me.”

“Anytime.”

He wants to tell Daehyun more—no, really, anytime, anything, whatever you need, hyung, I'll be there for you—but the manager is calling him away and Jongup's words go unsaid. It's okay, though. There will be another time to tell Daehyun how he feels. Another day, when they're not so busy. When the time is right.