Stay calm. Don't do anything stupid and hold still. Just don't touch anything.

You repeat those phrases to yourself as you hold your camera a little harder than necessary. Needless to say you're nervous, heck, you're terrified. This is your first photo shoot after a few years of interning and training and you still don't feel ready. It's a miracle you're still even standing now, your legs feel like jelly.

Your mentor had personally suggested you for the job, a simple one person shoot for an upcoming idol. Nothing hard, nothing horribly intimidating, just take a few pictures and you're done. Unfortunately your mentor failed to mention just who your subject is. That leaves your imagination to come up with the most gorgeous female idol that not only kills your self esteem but has a retched personality to match.

"C-can I have some water..?" you ask voice threatening to crack. An intern, one you don't recognize (maybe it's his first day too), does as you ask and brings you a bottle of cool relief.

"Thanks." you say gratefully before downing half the bottle in one go.

"You seem nervous." he states with no underlying mockery.

Setting down your water bottle you sigh and rub your eyes with the heels of your palms.

"I am I really am. I don't even know who this photo shoot is for and I'm just worried they're going to be horrible and hate me and I'll never go anywhere a photographer and-" The intern puts a comforting hand on your shoulder that cuts your self-doubt off.

"Don't worry so much, you'll do great. I've seen your pictures, they're amazing." he says with an encouraging smile. It takes you a moment to respond after actually taking a good look at the intern.

What the heck is he doing back here? He should be on the other side of the set in front of the camera. If you didn't know better you'd think he was the upcoming idol you're working for. To say the least, he's breathtakingly surreal. Gold and copper tones dance in his tousled hair under the constantly changing lights that shadow the deep hues of brown of his eyes. His skin has an unfair smoothness rivaling porcelain that's only more enviable with the perfect bone structure it overlays. How is he not owning runways and stages with his impossibly good looks and impressive height?

"Ah, uh, t-thank you... I-um-what's your name?" you stammer almost incoherently. It's not forward or strange for you to ask his name suddenly, technically you are his superior and have a right to ask him what you want.

"Kris."

Kris.

You're never forgetting that name when asked if you want a specific intern to join you.

"Alright, well, ah, Kris thanks for the encouragement, I really appreciate it." you say rather lamely.

He doesn't seem to mind the failed attempt at thanks and smiles (he has ridiculously nice white teeth too). "No problem, just give me a holler if you need anything else." With that the beautiful intern leaves you in a daze, rooted to the spot with a dreamy smile.

Maybe this shoot won't be that bad.

***

Months after your first shoot you've built up quite the reputation. The idol you had worked for became a big star right away. You were the first to photograph them and it gave you a name. Since then you've done countless photo shoots for idols, actors, and wealthy families.

The best part of your success is that Kris is a part of it. You'd made it such a point of having him around that the company you work for recognizes you as a pair now. If you get hired Kris is your assistant.

Simple as that.

You’re a little happier than you should about spending so much time with him. He’s just so encouraging and supportive (not to mention attractive) for you not to enjoy it. Meeting him is probably the best thing to happen in your career, maybe even your life. Honestly, you don’t think you would’ve gotten this far without him. The day he moves up from being an intern is the day you dread and wish never comes.

Well, you do want him to become a producer (as he's told you he wants to be on countless occasions) but, you don’t want him to leave you. Who knows what you might run into without him to reassure you? It’s going to be difficult carrying on without him, that’s for sure.

Today, however, you have your biggest client ever coming in for a shoot. She’s a one hit wonder that’s made her name known through all of Korea planning to debut as a soloist within the next few weeks. From what you’ve heard she’s very particular about everything. Fame seems to have rushed to her head all a little too quickly, giving her a self righteous sense of superiority.

Waiting for your subject is always the most nerve wracking part of a shoot, though you haven't felt that way in some time. Unfortunately the unpleasantness relentlessly attacks your mind. You’re petrified you'll ruin everything by being unable to please the incoming diva.

"You shouldn't freak out. You've dealt with worse clients." Kris says, resting a comforting hand on your back. His words do manage to ease your worry but not enough to stop your jumbled nerves.

"I know but, she's the biggest client I can hope to get and she's probably going to hate me and I'm going to screw up everything and-"

"Don't say that, you don't have enough confidence in yourself. Just think about all the great photos you've taken and where they've been featured. You're a fantastic photographer and that girl is an idiot if she doesn't think so too when she gets here." he states firmly holding you by the shoulders. Your mouth slowly clamps shut and you find yourself unable to look him in the eye.

"T-thanks, Kris, you always know what to say." you mumble, a low heat flushing across your cheeks.

"No problem, that's what I'm here for." he replies, a smile in his voice. When you finally manage to look up to speak the doors of the set swing open. Rather than pull away like you expect him to Kris brings you into a warm embrace.

"You'll do great." he whispers into your eat before detaching himself. With long his stride he walks off to his assistant duties and greets the suddenly elated star. Getting a hold of yourself you follow suit, approaching the petite girl with a smile.

"Hello, I'm the photographer, it's a pleasure to meet you." you greet extending a hand. She scrutinizes it incredulously, dropping the bright smile she'd given Kris.

"Wow, really? I was expecting someone more impressive that actually fit the rep. I'm disappointed you aren't taking pictures of me." she whines with a pout, redirecting her attention to Kris. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"No, I'm horrible with a camera. Trust me, she's the best there is. You couldn't ask for a better photographer." he states firmly believing his own claims. You give him a grateful smile that falters under the star's unimpressed gaze.

"Fine, let's get this over with."

***

The shoot goes just like your exchange of greetings; horribly wrong. It only seems to get worse the further along it progresses. First she complains you’re not getting her good side (though she contradicts the complaint by telling Kris multiple times that she has no bad side). Second she decides to take breaks and is sitting around flirting (or trying to) with Kris more often than not. Third she decides it’s your fault the shoot isn’t going smoothly or as quickly as she expected (though the first and second make it very obvious it’s her own fault). Last she seems to find it amusing to patronize your own looks while looking over photos of herself.

“Oh look, even my nose is better than yours here, don’t you think Kris?” she comments batting her eyelashes at the inexpressive man towering above her. You feel your self esteem chipping away and wait for Kris to agree but he stays silent, studying the picture with indifference.

“I think it’s a great picture.” he says the diva beginning to jump and squeal. However he raises a hand, the gesture all he needs to get her to hold still. It never ceases to amaze you just how much control and poise he had, regardless of who he was dealing with. He just had this authoritative presence about him, almost intimidating when first exposed to it. Thankfully you’ve experiences such fear. Kris has always been sweet to you; he’s never even frowned at you before.

“I said: I think it’s a great picture not that I think you look good in it.” he clarifies with a passive shrug, as if insulting the biggest star in Korean pop was something he did daily. He could definitely get away with doing so, no one is about to cross him or say otherwise.

You find yourself smiling to yourself, while the dolled up girl beside you makes a face that you didn’t believe possible for someone so well groomed. Nevertheless her face scrunches unattractively into a face of scorn and rage, her thick eye liner drawn eyes flickering to you murderously.

“Let’s finish this stupid shoot already.” she spits spinning on her heel and storming to the set. It doesn’t take much imagination on your part to envision steam spewing out her ears and horns sticking out the top of her bleached blonde head.

“I think you just ruined your chances with the number one diva in history.” you say glancing up at Kris with an uncontrollably amused smile.

“Eh, short and plastic isn’t my type. Maybe next time I’ll care.” he replies raising his arms in an exaggerated oh-well-it’s-not-my-problem way. You stifle your laughter behind you hand, lest the rampaging diva see you and break your camera.

Resetting yourself in front of the set you wait for the star to give you the okay for instruction and begin suggesting poses. The moment you do she begins snapping at you, more harshly than before and doing what she wants. Blatantly ignoring she does as she pleases, dictating when you take the picture or move to get a different angle. You try to reason with her that as the photographer you know better but she refuses to comply, now insulting you.

“Wow, what kind of photographer are you. You can’t even take pictures right. Ugh, I could’ve taken better pictures in my bathroom mirror. God, you’re such an amateur, why are you even in this industry? Seriously, whatever training your sunbae gave you obviously wasn’t worth it. You’re just a big waste of time.” she drawls with a huff and flick of her bouncy curls. The camera in your hands trembles, her words hurting you more than you think she realizes. Anyone else would be able to take her insults and brush them off as childish attempts at verbal abuse. You on the other hand take her words to heart with a lacking self esteem and confidence. It’s taken you this long to get to this moment and she makes you feel like your entire life has been a waste. The things you work toward are a waste because you aren’t good enough.

I’m not good enough.

“L-let’s just take a ten minute break.” you call, voice wavering. Giving your camera to a set coordinator you rush out of the room, not before hearing her laughter ringing like cruel bells behind you.

You’re not sure where you’re going, or how long you intend to be out there, but you let your feet lead you into an empty hallway. Vision blurring you slide down against a wall and crumble to the floor. Hugging your knees to your chest you bury your face into your arms and try to hold back your tears.

What kind of photographer are you?

You can’t even take pictures right.

You’re such an amateur.

Why are you even in this industry?

Whatever training your sunbae gave you obviously wasn’t worth it.

You’re just a big waste of time.

I’m not worth anyone’s time.

I’m not good enough.

I’m not.

Your entire body shakes with silent sobs, the back of your throat burning with a lump the size of a strawberry making even breathing difficult. Staying that way for at least five minutes you hear footsteps down the hall, your name being called repeatedly. Panicking you force yourself to your feet and flit down the hall in the opposite direction. No way was some coordinator finding you a ruined mess on the ground, crying yourself into a heap of failure.

            Turning the corner you see other workers, not a part of your set, walk past you to their own sets and you rush back to the safety of your hallway. Or at least it was. Instead of hurrying back into an empty hallway you run smack into Kris. Horrified you hide your head and wipe away the ceaseless tracks of salt trailing your cheeks.

            “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks taking you by the shoulders and peering down to see your face. You jerk back, away from his grasp and nod, all while avoiding his face.

“No, you’re definitely not okay. Just tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you.” he asks, no, pleads. This time you shake your head, unable to properly respond, and begin to turn away. This is humiliating; you don’t want to deal with this. You’re just going to go back to the set-no, you’re not even going to go back. Home, that’s where you’re going, then you can just call the head coordinator and tell them to wrap up without you. Yeah, that sounds good. Besides, Kris is more than capable enough to lead the last few steps alone.

With that in mind you start the trek to the exit, holding your arms around you as if to protect you from any other form of abuse. You don’t get far, a pair of strong arms enveloping your from behind. You freeze, stiffening under his touch.

“K-Kris, just-just go back… I’m fine.” you mumble, words barely above a whisper. Paying no heed to your pathetic attempt of assurance he simply holds you closer, gentle burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“No, you’re not. I’m not leaving until you smile again.” he murmurs, warm breath ghosting over your neck. The closeness is making you flustered, even in your self-pitying state.

He’s just so close…

Then again, what are you to him? Why is he even taking the time to try and comfort you? Like she said, you’re just a waste of time.

On a whim you break out of his embrace and turn to face him, not caring if he sees your tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes. He gapes at you startled but you step back when he tries to approach you.

“Just go. I’m talking as your superior, go back to the set and make sure it gets wrapped up smoothly.” you state, wiping furiously at your tears.

“No, I-”

“Kris just go, I am not worth the effort just leave!” you shout glaring up at him. New hot tears rush down your face but you don’t care, you’re done with caring. He doesn’t say anything, though he looks as if he wants to, and doesn’t try to approach you. Good, you don’t want him to. Seeing you’ve made your point you push past him, dead set on leaving this Godforsaken building.

He seems to enjoy stopping you up short, grabbing your wrist as you pass. Prepared to do anything in your ability to shut his attempts of comfort down you make to shout again. Your protests are never voiced, lost to the sudden molding of his lips against your own.

It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening.

But like you said, you’re done with caring and tiptoe up to return his gentle touch. His arms carefully pull you closer and you cling to him like a lifeline. You don’t want this moment to end, but your lungs decide otherwise. Reluctantly breaking away you look up at him in a daze.

“I don’t care what you or that prancing idiot has to say about you. You’ve always been worth it to me.” he says pulling you into the familiar warmth of his arms. His words replace the horrible words of the petty star in your heart. You nod holding back new tears, tears of joy and relief, against his chest.

“We should probably-oh my God why are you crying again?!” he exclaims frantically with an odd noise of distress. You laugh and try to stop the flow of tears with his shirt, rather than your own damp sleeves.

“Ah! I don’t know how this is going to work if you keep crying like this. I’m not good with crying, just please stop crying.” he complains, unsure what to do unlike his usual situated self.

You grin, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling into his chest.

“I’ll try, but you’re a really horrible intern, making your superior cry.” you joke making him exhale sharply in disbelief.

“Just, sh. I’m making an effort here.” he states resting his chin on your head and cradling you closer.

“Still think I’m worth it?” you challenge peering up at him.

“Always. Like your pictures, you’re perfect and I intend to remind you that every day.” he retorts with a grin.

I guess you’ll just have to see who gives out first, though you’re sure that day will never come.

Turns out this shoot wasn’t that bad after all.