His name was Lee Sungjong, twenty-three and a model. He was very good at what he did: he always knew where to look and how to angle his body towards the camera. A face like mine is rare you know, he told his younger brother once; back when they were living on that third floor room with the termites and the saggy mattresses.

That had been the same day he had vowed to get himself and his family out of that room to someplace better, where his mom could cook with beautiful pots and pans and his brother could have his own room, his own artwork plastered on the walls. As he grew older he learned how to use his face, his delicate front the perfect foil to a layer of steel and sass. Now he was a force in the modeling world, with an angelic face and soft curves that were the envy of women. Combine that with his composure and his natural talent, and you also had a photographer’s dream.

One of those photographers was Kim Myungsoo, age twenty-four and a newbie to the world that Sungjong was a part of. He was very good at what he did, mind in sharp focus as soon as he held a camera. His quiet intensity and stare had earned him the nickname of L. Such a shame though, that a boy with a beautiful face would rather hide than be seen, or so the others whispered. Sungjong knew about him because his manager Sunggyu had booked his next photoshoot with him. He fully expected someone intimidating, domineering.


i.


It takes Sungjong about an hour and a half into their first meeting to realize that Myungsoo is nothing like the persona they have given him. Of course Kim Myungsoo is quiet when he works, only speaking when he wants Sungjong to move or change poses, so unlike the photographers he’s used to (who yell instructions as he poses, as he changes, who always yell really).

They finish the first set quicker than Sungjong expects, and he immediately strides over to check how the pictures came out.

The pictures turn out to be really good; he doesn’t know things like composition and lighting, but he looks more like himself than what everyone else is telling him to be. Now he knows what all the fuss is about – this kid has talent. For a rookie. He tells Myungsoo so and the make-up noonas gasp at how blunt he is. Sungjong is shocked himself; he knows he has a sharp tongue but he usually reserves it for people who actually know him, the ones who won’t judge him too much if he says the wrong thing.

But apparently Kim Myungsoo is full of surprises. “I’d have to be, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” And the way he says it, like it’s a fact and the amused smile that’s threatening to break out and his face is creasing up –

It shocks Sungjong—somewhat. It shouldn’t really, he knows he’s not as cold as everyone says but it’s still surprising, the fact that L is more of mask rather than an extension of Kim Myungsoo.

“Are you alright, Sungjong-ssi?” His voice sounds quite different, a bit higher than he expected but pleasant to hear all the same. Sungjong gives him a demure smile – no teeth – as he nods. “Of course. Besides, we’re so close in age; I think it’s alright if you just call me Sungjong.” Myungsoo’s eyes grow wide at this, hands fumbling with his camera a bit before steadying. “I—“

Sungjong tries to hide a smile as he watches the elder regain his composure. “Is it... okay if I call you hyung?”

He likes the way Kim Myungsoo smiles, eyes disappearing into crescent-moons and face scrunching up adorably like a newborn kitten. “Okay.”

That smile makes him feel a lot older than Kim Myungsoo, having spent more time in the modeling world. He knows how it works, when people use you for their own means and you need to be willing to do anything to survive in it. Sungjong really can’t picture Kim Myungsoo being a part of it. Why did you get into this?, is what he wants to ask. Why would you risk it?

They become friends after that, Sungjong mostly making conversation while Myungsoo listens over bowls of kimchi jjigae. Sometimes Myungsoo sees something hilarious and he sends a picture of it to Sungjong, making the latter laugh while being shuttled from schedule to schedule. They invite mutual friends along too, others who know how exhausting the life they lead can be. They don’t think about their jobs then, or what happens tomorrow. It's these moments of normalcy that make everything else bearable.


ii.


The first time Myungsoo comes to one of his shows is during winter and Sungjong is backstage, dressed in a suit that is tailored to highlight the curves of his body, the ones that he’s so famous for. He’s tucked away in one of the corners near the dressing rooms, the only place where he could really be alone during times like this. He closes his eyes, clearing his mind of any distractions when—

“Sungjongie.” He opens his eyes and Myungsoo is right there, smiling shyly and it makes Sungjong want to squeeze the elder’s cheeks together, kidnap him and never give him back.

“Hyung, what are you doing here? I mean, not that I don’t want you here but how—“ He has never been known to babble, but he’s doing it right now and that’s not good because he’s supposed to be in control of things.

“I wanted to wish you good luck, you know, for the show.” Sungjong grins at that, even more so when he can see Myungsoo’s fingers twitching as they look for something to hold onto. After a few months of being friends, he now knew that the elder loved skinship, often latching onto someone’s back or squishing their cheeks together. He never knew whether to feel fond of Myungsoo or berate him for giving too much away.

“Thanks hyung.” He takes one of Myungsoo’s hands, squeezing it for reassurance. “You should go back to your seat. I’ll try to text you later, okay?” He doesn’t say that Myungsoo gives away too much in his actions, or that he needs to learn to protect himself more.

It makes him nervous, the fact that Myungsoo reminds him of a child that needs to be protected. It also scares Sungjong that this man (he calls him that aloud, but his mind calls him a boy) makes him think too much, makes him loosen the grip on his tightly held control.


iii.


It’s sometime between photoshoots that Sungjong first hears the rumors. He’s being made up, eyeliner applied carefully to tone down his wide eyes when the make-up artist next to him huffs, “It’s too bad he’s clearly not straight.” Eh?

He’s surprised when the woman doing his make-up hums sympathetically. “I know, but his taste seems to be a bit questionable don’t you think?”

“Lee Sungyeol seems like a good choice to me!” The first woman argued.

“Yes, but this is Kim Myungsoo--”

“Excuse me, but the photographer is expecting me to be done with make-up in less than five minutes. He won’t be very happy to see that the noonas are distracting themselves with petty gossip, no?” His voice is icy, carefully measured and betraying none of the turmoil he truly feels.

Sungjong is distracted all throughout the photoshoot, frustrating the photographer and getting yelled at more than a few times. A part of Sungjong seethes that this photographer may be a genius but he’s also an idiot and a jerk, unlike Myungsoo who never yells and who is polite to everyone and in turn they all love him too – But then in his mind, he can see Myungsoo hugging Lee Sungyeol.

Lee Sungyeol is one of their mutual friends, a brilliant actor that Myungsoo had taken to immediately; calling him Yeollie and latching on to the elder’s back whenever he could. Sungjong knows Sungyeol, knows how much he values honesty and how he is never one for touching, but puts up with it because Myungsoo is a child they all seem to care for; someone they need to protect. Of course he would be Myungsoo’s type.

Sungjong doesn’t know why he this makes him so sad.


iv.


“Are you mad at me?” Sungjong blinks in surprise as Myungsoo turns to look at him, stare dark and penetrating. It’s after their third shoot together, they’re editing the photos at the elder’s apartment, and it’s normally an enjoyable affair but for some reason Sungjong feels so confused. Is he really? Mad? I mean, Sungyeol would be good for Myungsoo; he could keep the later from spacing out so much. Myungsoo would be good for Sungyeol too, a reassuring hand to keep Sungyeol from going too out of line. Sungjong would be happy if the rumors are true…right?

“Of course not, hyung.” The younger rolls his eyes and points to the picture on the laptop. “The colors in this one look a little too dark.” Myungsoo raises an eyebrow, adjusting the brightness and contrast before speaking again.

“You don’t roll your eyes; you know doing it too much gives people crow’s feet. Now what did I do?” Myungsoo’s eyes are something Sungjong can never get used to; he doesn’t like it when they’re blank (he’s spacing out), but he loves them when they show just what his hyung is feeling at the moment. Right now, they’re not creasing up and disappearing (when he smiles), but they’re staring right at him, making Sungjong feel like Myungsoo can see right through him.

He briefly wonders what they would look like when his pupils are blown and swallowing the irises, mouth slack open as Sungjong—

. No, wait he can’t--- He just—Sungjong backs away immediately, his cheeks flaming at the stupid thought. Myungsoo’s eyes widen as he reaches for Sungjong, the younger backing away until he falls off the couch, landing on his back. “Sungjongie—“

“Tell anyone about this and I will kill you with a rusted knife.” Myungsoo snorts at Sungjong’s threat, pulling the younger to a sitting position on the floor before settling back on the couch, face peering down at him. “So,…”

“I heard these rumors from the make-up noonas.” Sungjong keeps his arms folded across his chest, doing his best to play the part of intimidating interrogator.

Myungsoo’s face is blank, a bit confused as he waits for Sungjong to continue. “Well, you’re getting a little too close to Sungyeol-hyung these days. People are saying that you’re actually together.” The expression on his hyung’s face still doesn’t change, and Sungjong’s almost afraid to ask. “You know you can tell me anything, hyung..”

“Yeollie’s my best friend.” Sungjong expects that answer and that it will lead to the obvious. “But I don’t like him more than that.” Huh?

“What?” Sungjong cringes inwardly at his reaction. “But he’s Sungyeol! He’s.. long and his legs --” He really must be digging his own grave and Myungsoo looks so confused right now and it’s pretty adorable and Sungjong just wants to kiss him and get him a puppy or something and – oh god. The realization hits him and he knows there’s no use denying it.

He likes Kim Myungsoo, he has for a long time now.

“I—“ He stammers and Myungsoo’s face is thoughtful and , Sungjong just wishes the earth would open up and swallow him already.

“You’re right about those things.. but you’re pretty too, Sungjongie. You’re smart, strong and beautiful--” He cuts Myungsoo off when he presses his lips against the other’s, ignoring the know-it-all voice in his head (that sounds a lot like his own) screaming in joy when Myungsoo responds, the kiss a little sloppy from the later’s inexperience. He’s unaware of how long they kiss, but he whines when Myungsoo pulls away, pressing his forehead against his.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I like you.” Myungsoo’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes boring into Sungjong’s. “Sungyeol told me you pick up on these things easily, but right now you’re being slow-- ”

“Myungsoo.” Sungjong knows a smile is threatening to break out, reaching out brush the hair out of Myungsoo’s face. “Do I have to kiss you every time I need you to shut up?”

“Maybe.” Myungsoo’s grinning at him as well, his cheeks still a bit red and Sungjong just wants to kiss him again, so he does.