A/N: I haven't forgotten this fic exists!

I shamelessly incorporated some of my favourite BoXuan moments, especially this which I will scream about for the rest of my life. Seriously I could be a 90 year old woman on my deathbed and I'd still be screaming DID YOU SEE THE WAY BONA SQUISHED XUANYI'S FACE!??!?!?!

III

Jiyeon’s first impression of Wu Xuanyi is that she’s really, really strange. There’s a fish tank in the office set they’re supposed to film their first scene in, and Xuanyi is making a goldfish-like face at the tank, cheeks puffed out and lips wiggling, like she’s trying to match the fish.

Jiyeon clears . “Hello.”

Xuanyi jumps about two feet in the air and whips around. Her face looks much more attractive when she isn’t doing a goldfish impression. “Hi!”

“I’m Jiyeon. You must be Xuanyi.”

“Yes, that’s me.” Xuanyi is blushing now. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jiyeon says politely. “The director wants to talk to us both. Do you want to…?”

“Right. Yeah. I’m right behind you.”

As Xuanyi follows her, Jiyeon feels a sense of familiarity trickle over her spine, like this is a familiar occurrence. She feels like she knows how Xuanyi walks, can map out her stride and match it with her own without even thinking about it.

“Jiyeon?” Xuanyi asks when she stops.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” Jiyeon shakes her head to clear it. “Let’s go.”

She lets Xuanyi catch up to her so they’re walking side by side, and sure enough their footsteps land in tandem, as natural as breathing. What’s strange is that Jiyeon doesn’t find it strange at all. Things feel exactly as they should be, like she’s been waiting for Xuanyi her whole life without knowing.

Xuanyi is a bit…weird, to say the least. Most young actresses Jiyeon has met are pretty careful about their image, but Xuanyi clearly doesn’t give a damn about hers. The goldfish impression was nothing. Jiyeon once finds her eating a bowl of ramyun with such enthusiasm that she ends up with a mouthful of her extensions, and she slurped down three huge gulps of soup before bothering to take the hair out.

She’s also kind and considerate, always ordering enough food for not only the cast but the crew too.

“It’s just better to work in an environment where everyone’s happy,” Xuanyi says, “and food makes people happy, don’t you think?”

“I feel contractually obligated to agree, given that our characters are in love with food.”

“Oh come on, don’t downplay it. I saw the way you wolfed down that tteokbokki.”

Jiyeon rolls her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t go to town on some seaweed.”

Xuanyi blinks. “How’d you know I like seaweed?”

Jiyeon falters. How had she known that? She can’t recall Xuanyi ever telling her that, and it’s not like she talks to other people about Xuanyi.

“Lucky guess?”

“Okay well I’d definitely do that. Do you have any seaweed?”

“Not this time, I’ll buy you some later.”

“Yay!” Xuanyi beams, so pure in her happiness that Jiyeon wants to pat her head and then maybe squeeze her cheeks a bit. It’s odd, she feels like Xuanyi should have rounder cheeks, ones that would be delightful to smoosh.

“What?” Xuanyi asks. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Yeah, some beauty,” Jiyeon replies on instinct, and Xuanyi laughs so hard that Jiyeon feels like she’s a master comedian.

“Are you sure you aren’t confusing me with a mirror?”

Jiyeon stares at her so intently that Xuanyi falters. “No,” she says. “I’m looking at you.”

The tips of Xuanyi’s ears turn red. She mumbles something indecipherable and leans towards Jiyeon, and Jiyeon fully expects her to hide her face against Jiyeon’s shoulder, take shelter there the way she’s always done.

…Wait, Xuanyi has never done that before, so where’s that thought from?

“You had some lint on your shirt,” Xuanyi says, holding up a bit of fuzz.

“Oh.” That’s not what Jiyeon expected. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Xuanyi leaps up. “Come on, let’s go practice the scene again.”

“Okay,” Jiyeon says. “I’m right behind you.”

This time, she’s the one who follows Xuanyi. She has a feeling it’s far from the first time she’s seen Xuanyi walking away, and it’ll be far from the last. She wants to accompany her while she still has the chance.

Jiyeon likes spending time with Xuanyi. She can make Jiyeon laugh even after a fourteen hour day of filming, when she’s subsiding on sheer willpower and can feel the exhaustion all the way to her bones. However, they feel lighter, she feels lighter, after watching Xuanyi do a weird dance or gush about how much she loves seaweed.

Somehow, they never run out of things to talk about, and when Jiyeon talks about something, even if it’s telling the most mundane of stories, Xuanyi always gazes at her like she’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Jiyeon would feel embarrassed if she didn’t know she looks at Xuanyi in the same way.

After an idol they both like talks about how her scalp bled from bleaching her hair, they start talking about the effects of hair dye.

“Have you ever been blonde?” Xuanyi asks.

“No. I’ve always wanted to try though.”

“You look good blonde,” Xuanyi says. “I mean, you would look good blonde.”

“You would too,” Jiyeon says, pinching a strand of Xuanyi’s hair between her fingers. She’s usually not the type to initiate physical contact, but for whatever reason she’s felt comfortable with Xuanyi since the beginning. “You’d look good with blonde hair and rounder cheeks.”

Xuanyi chuckles, her voice sounding slightly breathy. “That’s very specific. Also, I’ve only ever been told I’d look better with a thinner face, not a fuller one.”

“Your face is thin enough. It could use some padding.” Jiyeon gives into temptation and squeezes Xuanyi’s cheeks. Xuanyi gives her a disgruntled look but doesn’t move away. Jiyeon pokes her chin and coaxes a smile out of her, and it just feels so. Right. Natural. Like this is how they’re meant to be.

Xuanyi starts acting strange one day for no reason Jiyeon can tell. She becomes cold, distant, avoids Jiyeon and only talks to her when they have to and even then only speaks in clipped sentences and then leaves as soon as possible. They don’t have any scenes to film together that day, as Jiyeon has a scene with her love interest, and she barely sees Xuanyi at all.

She finally catches up to Xuanyi before she has to film the scene. “Xuanyi,” she says, catching her sleeve. “Can we talk?”

“Don’t you have an important scene to film?” Xuanyi says, and suddenly Jiyeon notices that her eyes are rimmed with red.

“Have you been crying?”

“No,” Xuanyi bites out, glaring at her.

“Who made you cry?” Jiyeon presses. “Tell me and I’ll—tell me.”

“Nobody made me cry. Don’t you have more important things to worry about? You should go and…prepare.” Xuanyi stumbles over the word. “It’s pretty unprofessional for you to go around chatting when you have work to be doing.”

Jiyeon reels back, stung. If there’s one thing she hates to be accused of, it’s unprofessionalism. She knows better than anyone how many roles she’s been handed because of her face, but she’s always fought to deserve them, to put forward her best performance so people can see past Jiyeon the pretty face to Kim Jiyeon the hardworking actress. She never would have expected Xuanyi of all people to use that word against her.

“Jiyeon.” Xuanyi looks at her, face white. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“You’re right,” Jiyeon says quickly. “I should go prepare. I’ll go do that. Sorry for taking up your time with my unprofessional chatting.”

“Jiyeon, I didn’t—”

But Jiyeon spins away and hastily leaves before Xuanyi can see the tears welling up in her eyes. She’s usually very composed and it’s hard for others to get under her skin, but there’s something about Xuanyi. She’s Jiyeon’s Achilles heel, the chink in her armour, and she’s hit that soft spot with deadly accuracy.

Jiyeon should have known how dangerous it is to be vulnerable.

The scene goes horribly. Jiyeon is a mess from the beginning. She can barely stand to look at him, and has to fight not to flinch away from his touch. It doesn’t help that the whole time she keeps thinking about Xuanyi and her red-rimmed eyes and wounded voice, like Jiyeon had been the one to hurt her.

“Okay, let’s take a break and try again later,” the director says when it’s the eighth take and Jiyeon still can’t get it right.

She apologizes, to him, the crew and her co-star, and practically runs out of there. She doesn’t know where to go. Maybe she should get a coffee? Some caffeine would probably be good for her. Deciding on that, Jiyeon heads towards the refreshments but is intercepted by a familiar voice.

“Jiyeon?”

Xuanyi is looking at her, eyes wide and apologetic, hands wrung together like a child caught doing something wrong. Jiyeon’s heart twists at the sight.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to call you that and I know you’re not unprofessional you’re one of the most professional people I’ve ever worked with and I really didn’t mean it please forgive me.”

Xuanyi blurts it all out in one breath, so quickly that Jiyeon misses half the words, and then exhales so hard she slumps forward with the force of it.

“Breathe,” Jiyeon says, and somehow finds herself rubbing a hand over Xuanyi’s shoulder blades.

“Do you forgive me?” Xuanyi asks, looking at her with watery eyes and pouting lips. She looks like such a kicked puppy that Jiyeon has to harden her heart not to just say “yes.”

“Tell me why you were crying earlier and I’ll forgive you.”

Xuanyi flushes. “I—it’s really nothing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I didn’t like… I didn’t want you to film the scene with him, okay?”

“What?” Jiyeon blinks. “Why?”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Xuanyi spits out. “He looks at you like a piece of meat. It’s not right. Nobody is allowed to look at you like that except—”

“Except?” Jiyeon asks, amused now.

“—except if you loved them,” Xuanyi says, but Jiyeon has a feeling that’s not what she was about to say.

“You cried over that?” Jiyeon says, gently tipping Xuanyi’s face up with a finger when Xuanyi won’t look at her. “I’m honoured that you’re so concerned for me.”

“You’re my friend,” Xuanyi mumbles, eyes darting everywhere but Jiyeon. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“I never really noticed him looking at me like that or in any way. I guess I don’t look at him enough to notice. I just want to get the scene over with but…” Jiyeon sighs. “I’ve been having trouble shooting it.”

“What?” Xuanyi’s head whips up. “Did he—”

“No, nothing like that. It’s me. I just. I’ve been unable to stay focused. I guess I just don’t want to film the scene, but I’ve never let that stop me before. I don’t know.”

Xuanyi tilts her head to the side. “You can’t pretend you want him?”

Jiyeon lets out a chuckle. “I guess not.”

“Then think about someone you do want. Just pretend. That’s what acting is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s what acting is.” Jiyeon reaches out and pinches Xuanyi’s cheek, and Xuanyi pouts at her. “I have to get back to filming. We just had a break. I was going to get some coffee but.”

“Oh, do you have to go right now? I can get you a coffee, just give me one minute.” Xuanyi turns to leave, but Jiyeon catches her by the sleeve and this time Xuanyi doesn’t seem in a rush to get away from her.

“I don’t need it anymore,” Jiyeon says. “I feel fine now. I think I’ll be able to shoot the scene now.”

“Okay,” Xuanyi says, giving the smile that makes her eyes curve into crescents. “You can do it. Hwaiting!” She waves her fist in a cheering gesture, and Jiyeon smiles, helpless and fond. Xuanyi is too cute. Jiyeon would take all the unpleasant scenes if it means getting to see her every day.

This time, she pulls it off in only two more takes. She even manages to look at him lustfully, even though she’s seeing another person in her mind’s eye. A face that’s much softer, with smiling eyes and pouting lips; a slim body, supple curves and long legs; a voice saying “Jiyeon” with the j more like a zh—

The picture of Xuanyi in her fantasies collapses like a broken window, shards flying everywhere, and Jiyeon’s eyes snap open.

“And…scene! Good work, everyone.”

Jiyeon gathers the blanket around herself and breathes, trying to clear the image of Xuanyi’s face from her mind, like it isn’t branded there. She tries to convince herself it’s normal she thought of Xuanyi, that it’s what happens when you spend a lot of time up close and personal with an attractive person, but she knows better.

Jiyeon doesn’t know what to do. Despite how many romance dramas she’s been in, she can’t let herself believe that life is like one. If she messes up, there’s nobody to click the clapboard and give them a second take, there’s no rewinding the scene, there’s only herself left to pick up the pieces.

Xuanyi nudges her. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just…things,” Jiyeon says evasively. “I can’t believe it’s the second last day of filming already.”

“I know right,” Xuanyi says. “Time flies.” She sighs and gives Jiyeon a pouty look, and Jiyeon feels that familiar urge to reach for her and squeeze her face until she smiles. She resists the urge, keeping her hands tucked close to her body.

“Xuanyi…”

Xuanyi smiles and leans in closer to her. “Yeah?”

“Will you miss me, after filming is over?” Jiyeon says impulsively.

“Of course!” Xuanyi looks at her like she’s aghast Jiyeon needs to ask. “But we’ll stay in touch and we’ll see each other again in no time at all.”

“Yeah,” Jiyeon says. “Right.”

She wonders how Xuanyi can be so—normal about all this, while Jiyeon feels like she’s walking on eggshells, just waiting to hear them crack. Maybe Xuanyi is the better actress between them after all.

“Jiyeon,” Xuanyi says, and her voice is gentler. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Jiyeon wonders if she’s talking about the end of filming or whatever is going on between them. As quirky and funny as Xuanyi is, she also has an uncannily perceptive side that she doesn’t let show very often. Jiyeon supposes this is one of those times that side is rearing its head.

“Right,” Jiyeon says again, and tries to believe it.

Before she’s ready, they finish filming the last scene and with the final “that’s a wrap!” still ringing in her ears, Jiyeon finds herself facing the prospect that she’ll have to say goodbye to Xuanyi. Sure, it’s not forever or anything but it’ll be a big adjustment from seeing her every day to not seeing her until who knows when.

She says her goodbyes to everyone in the cast and crew, exchanges some phone numbers, gives some hugs and then she’s sipping her last cup of coffee in a set that’s become a kind of temporary home.

“It’ll be weird,” Xuanyi says absently. “This was such a big part of our lives and now it’s just…not.”

Jiyeon glances at her. “Yeah,” she says, and thinks about how that’s not the only big part of her life that won’t be the same.

Xuanyi stares at her for a moment, and suddenly Jiyeon can hear her say, “I don’t want to leave you,” and “I’ll never forget you,” so clear, so vivid, she knows it’s a memory and not just a dream or fantasy.

“I have something to tell you,” Xuanyi says, and Jiyeon thinks, this is it. “I’ve been cast for the new Ding Mo movie!”

That’s not what Jiyeon expected to hear at all. “That’s-that’s great!”

“Thanks!” Xuanyi beams. “My agent just told me.”

“Congratulations,” Jiyeon says sincerely. “I know you’ll do great. Who’s going to play the male lead?”

“Wang Yibo,” Xuanyi says, a popular actor in the same agency as her. “I know him, not very well, but I think we’ll work well together.”

“Oh,” Jiyeon says. “That’s good.” Her hand tightens into a fist and only then does she remember she’s still holding a cup of coffee as the Styrofoam crunches under her fingers.

“It won’t be like working with you,” Xuanyi says, and Jiyeon’s heart gives an embarrassingly loud thump. “It’s too bad we can’t have every project together.”

Jiyeon smiles. “I’m sure you’d get tired of me if we did.”

“No,” Xuanyi murmurs. “I don’t think so.”

Jiyeon busies herself with her coffee. There’s only a little left and she drains it with one gulp. It tastes more bitter than usual.

They stay in touch through texts and the occasional phone call. Jiyeon thinks that maybe she could be okay with this, just having Xuanyi in her life in some capacity, even if it’s just as friends. Maybe one day they could be in a movie or drama together again, and then… Well, there are a lot of possibilities.

Jiyeon is becoming more and more of a fan of the thought when she gets a phone call from Xuanyi.

“Hello?”

“Jiyeon,” comes that familiar voice. “It’s me, Xuanyi.”

“I know,” Jiyeon laughs. “I have caller ID.” Plus, like there’s any way she wouldn’t be able to recognize Xuanyi’s voice.

“Jiyeon,” Xuanyi says again, and her voice sounds worn, ragged.

“What is it?” Jiyeon asks, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“My company wants me to announce that I’m in a relationship with Wang Yibo.”

Jiyeon’s throat feel like it’s been rubbed with sandpaper. “What?”

“They think it’ll bring good publicity considering the movie and how many shippers we have.”

“But—you can’t,” Jiyeon says. “You can’t be with him. You’re”—mine—“not even interested in him.”

“I’m not going to really date him. It’s just one of those contractual things, you know. We’ll announce it, post some occasional pictures on social media, purposefully be photographed together at some places and then we’ll amicably break up a few months later.” Xuanyi says it all lightly, like it’s as simple as signing an autograph for a fan, and Jiyeon wants to scream but can’t make a sound. “It’s not real, Jiyeon. It’s not.”

Xuanyi says it like she’s desperate for Jiyeon to believe her, and Jiyeon knows that it’s not real in that Xuanyi doesn’t have feelings for him but it’s still real in that it’ll happen. In that in the eyes of the public, Xuanyi will be his, even if that’s not how it’ll be behind closed doors.

“Jiyeon?” Xuanyi says, tentatively, like she’s expecting to be rebuked.

“He’d better not mistreat you.”

“I don’t think he will. He’s a good guy.”

“Good,” Jiyeon says. “That’s-that’s good.”

“Jiyeon.” Xuanyi’s voice is small. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jiyeon says. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for this.”

“My company told me something. Well, they didn’t say it outright but. They sound like they especially want to announce that I’m in a relationship to dissuade…certain rumours.”

“What rumours?” Jiyeon says, tight.

“So you see, I really have to,” Xuanyi says, like Jiyeon hadn’t spoken. “On all fronts, I have to.”

Jiyeon can hear Xuanyi’s underlying message as clear as day: they’re suspicious about us, so I have to throw them off the trail. But, she wants to say, we never even started anything. Not really. They’ve never even kissed, never exchanged touches beyond the platonic, never said anything vaguely romantic to each other. They’re not anything, technically, even as Jiyeon wishes otherwise.

“I know,” Jiyeon whispers. “I should be the one to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Then neither do you,” Jiyeon returns. “Xuanyi… Be happy, okay?”

Xuanyi says something so quickly and quietly that Jiyeon misses it.

“What?”

“I’ll try,” Xuanyi says, “and you have to too, okay?”

“Okay,” Jiyeon says. “I’ll try.” It’s all she can promise.

Only after she hangs up does she realize what Xuanyi said.

Xuanyi… Be happy, okay?

How can I be without you?

Jiyeon’s company suggests to her that maybe she can be seen with her latest male co-star more often, maybe they can arrange to have a meal together at this restaurant, maybe he can drive them there. They phrase it like a suggestion, but she has a feeling she doesn’t have much choice in the matter.

She agrees. What does she have to lose anyway? She’s already lost the thing she wants most before she even got it.

On her way back to her apartment, she sees an ad for her movie on a passing bus and the tagline sears her eyes: They say that few love stories have happy endings. Let’s prove them wrong.

She hadn’t been able to, in the end.

A/N: I was going to have this as the last chapter, and have them get together (that's why they remember so much from their previous lives) but then I rather like the bittersweet ending and honestly I don't know what I'm doing with this fic soooooo.