"Smile," someone whispers, in the background. Not loud enough to be caught by the recording system, but loud enough to cut past the static.

The spotlight is in his eyes, blinding. He can't make out any of the other faces except hers. Which, he'd imagine, is the point.

He smiles dutifully, looking at Seungyeon's bent head with all the infatuation of a first love. And thinks, for what feels like the hundredth time in three weeks; man, she's gorgeous. 

The other CN Blue members are good-naturedly jealous of him. Yonghwa hyung slapped him on the back and said bastard a couple of times. That, when he's being honest, feels good.

When she looks up, finally, she catches his stare. He doesn't miss the color spreading across her cheeks. Can't tell if it's an act at all. Can feel that inadvertent responsive undercurrent of satisfaction at having made her blush, even if it's potentially an act. Which makes her a bloody fantastic actress.

But whatever, he's good at being in love too.

Comfort, he’s not good at, but he’ll learn, eventually, he’d imagine. He has to.

 

-

 

He catches the kiss on-screen by accident.

He’s heard about it, of course. It had set the internet forums ablaze before their part even aired, cut short because of the baseball game (but really, by this point, everyone knows that's just an excuse). He imagines he can feel his producers heave a sigh of relief through the ten walls of separation, through the endless reinforced concrete. The Lee Tae Im controversy almost, if not quite, drowned as soon as hyungnim asked noona to close her eyes. Public memory is short, fickle; this they rely on. sells. This too they rely on.

Their segment is playing in the studio on a loop on the big screen, muted. He's just supposed to be passing by. But curiosity has always been one of his strong suits. Or maybe strong failings. Probably that.

It's not a kiss, not really, is his first thought. He's done worse- better. Much better. It's not even a TV-kiss. Their lips barely touching on a screen lighting the dark room in a blue glow. But, for some reason, still, it shocks. There's something scandalous about a kiss in the second episode. Even if it suits Henry hyungnim’s image. That, probably, was the point.

He wonders if he could have done it.

Plays it in his head, just for curiosity's sake. Replaces hyungnim with himself for a brief second. He wants to be a director someday. That is still a secret.

He tries re-scripting, for what it’s worth. Changes the color of her dress, then changes it back to blue. Shifts the piano from its position. Thinks, for a second, of taking it out of the scene entirely- he can play it, sure, but he’s no Henry Lau, it feels constructed somehow. Then leaves it in. It looks good. This is about looking good.

Here’s the thing though, he forgets to replace her. Gets far too preoccupied by the object positioning, the scene placement, to really pay much attention to anything else. Then, finally, retains the scene as it is, his mind drawing a blank on how to script it better. He didn't say he is a director as yet.

Kisses Yewon noona the same way, perhaps by accident. 

Anyway, it's not a kiss, not really. 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“It was you, right?” Her lips soundlessly form the words. For some reason, even in his head, they’re muted.

As long as it’s always me.

Hyung had only nodded his head in response. As cheesy, as ridiculous as it now sounds, that part he changes.

In retrospect, this is his first mistake.

 

 

-

 

 

 

Habits, he finds, are easy to get into.

He ends up in the TV-room nine times out of ten. He can’t quite understand why he’s so tired all the time, when he spends most of his days doing nothing more with Seungyeon than the casual, everyday things he probably would be doing anyway. But somehow, the cameras make it exhausting.

Seungyeon has the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen. That makes up for it on most days. Sometimes, when he looks into them, he forgets to act. Nobody notices, though. Which is dangerous.

He doesn’t notice her. His eyes adjust faster to the dim blue glow each time, but he’s also used to being alone here. Habits are easy to get into.

“Jonghyun-ssi,” she acknowledges first.

“Noona,” he says, automatically, before turning, “hi.” She’s standing diagonally across from the screen, just a few feet away. Her face on-screen reflects on her face off it. For a brief moment, as a would-be director, he’s fascinated.

It takes him a while to register- Jonghyun-ssi- and, for a moment, thinks something like I thought we were past that.

Then understands. That was for the cameras. God, he’s getting to be pathologically stupid. It’s a legitimate concern by now.

“Sorry,” he covers, switching immediately, “Yewon-ssi. I just thought-”

“No,” she waves it off, “you can use banmal. I just- I wasn’t sure-” 

He waits for her to finish. She leaves the sentence hanging, gaze turning back to the screen. Hyungnim is kissing her for what feels like the tenth time. It’s deeper by now, almost a real kiss. Their skinship is running circles around the show, boosting the ratings enough for their respective agencies to turn a blind eye to the potential scandal. He'd initially thought their concept was campy, madcap humor. But he’s starting to feel like it may just be eros.

She likes mirrors, he remembers, randomly.

He studies her. The dark-circles under her eyes seem more pronounced. The MBC controversy seems to have left its shadow somewhere. She’s more subdued too, somehow. Or maybe the brightness was just camera induced. It’s not like he knows her, not like he can tell.

“You can speak comfortably with me too,” he says. Only realizes, after, that he’s overshot the response time-limit for this to be a reasonable extension of their conversation when she answers with an absent, “hmm?”

“You,” he tries again, embarrassed by now, “can speak comfortably with me. I meant what I said that day.”

She doesn’t understand, he knows, what it meant for him to get there. Even though he’d told her. She probably thought that was for the cameras too. She doesn’t know him either, after all.

The scene shifts to his segment. Seungyeon in a al, white dress, practically glowing. On-screen, he’s trying to cut vegetables, but he keeps getting distracted by her nearness. Only about half of that is scripted.

Yewon noona appears to lose interest almost immediately, sparing only a perfunctory glance. He doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused by that.

“Okay,” she answers, finally, turning again. Smiles. “That judo class was super fun, by the way. You should teach me that properly someday. I was a mess at it.”

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