Just Say Yes (5/7)

[sooheaven_mods]

He's been to Cork for Turtle at this early hour far too many times for him to get lost. He knows this place like the back of his hand - he can walk from the station to the restaurant with his eyes closed and he won't make a wrong turn. Maybe he'd run into a couple of people, but then this is Seoul. This is Gangnam, and what's Gangnam without its busy streets and people always rushing from one place to another? What is Seoul without people waking up early to get as many things done as possible in the shortest amount of time? Eight in the morning is already late. The grind for the shoot is at twelve. They have to be there at ten in the morning, or eleven at the very latest.

Jongdae takes a while to get into character. Maybe they can start internalizing in the car, on their way to the location. Or maybe that's a bad idea - it isn't exactly nice to entrust someone whose mind is clouded with so many thoughts with a steering wheel. Kyungsoo should know that. He knows that very well. And he knows where exactly to sit in the second floor of the restaurant - at the second table from the window, where there's a nice balance of hot and cold. There's a nice view of the Han from there, as well. It's the best of both worlds.

The server arrives with a pair of menus and hands them to Kyungsoo. "I'm just waiting for a friend," he tells her, then gives her a small smile. He goes through the items, then, eager to try something new.

Sunlight reaches his table after a while, hitting the back of his hand and leaving a prickling sensation on his skin. It's the same as that time, when he saw blinding headlights right before his eyes. When he almost got crushed against the slide by a car that's been steered out of control. He can still remember the way he'd tried to call for help that time, the way his throat felt so dry and tight, the way he felt so helpless. The pads of his fingers were cold. His limbs were numb. And the bright lights were consuming him in the same way that the sun was setting his skin aglow-

"Hey," comes a familiar voice, then a light pinch on his arm. He looks up from where he's been staring at the menu for a few minutes now, and blinks several times. "I'm not late, am I? I mean, I'm pretty sure my watch says 8 a.m. and I've had my time synced with KBS for a while now."

"Hey," Kyungsoo replies, then raises his hand a little. Jongdae meets his palm with his own. The slide of their hands is warm, but this isn't anything unfamiliar. Jongdae's held his hand a couple of times now that he should be accustomed to the way their hands fit, the way Jongdae can envelop his tiny fists with his hands. He's supposed to have this memorized because doesn't he have his talents memorized like the back of his hand? Still, he lets his gaze linger in the way Jongdae's fingers slip between his own, in the way grips his hand tight once he finds a nice fit. In the way the pulse in Jongdae's thumb beats fast against his knuckle and sends shivers down his spine. "He...llo."

"Hi," Jongdae says, then scrunches his nose. He hums. "Whatever. You probably just arrive early all the time. Must be a director thing."

"And arriving late is an actor thing, yeah." Kyungsoo chuckles. Jongdae cocks an eyebrow at him and tightens his grip. He can feel his own pulse in the tight press of their hands. "Couldn't find parking space?"

Jongdae tilts his head a little. Then he squints, the corners of his mouth pulling up in accord. When Jongdae smiles, the rest of his body does. It's there in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, in the upward pull on his cheeks, in the way his shoulders fall forward and relax. In the easy rise and fall of his chest as he says, "Nah, I didn't bring my car with me. Figured I'd have a hard time looking for parking at this time. I'll just walk back to my flat."

"Apgeu's a good ten-minute walk from here."

"So?" Jongdae shrugs, then pulls away. He clasps his hands together and settles on his seat. "That means I get to spend ten more minutes with you." He looks up and meets Kyungsoo's gaze. His bangs are brushed to the side and sunlight catches on his eyelids. He looks better when he isn't hiding behind his bangs. And he looks better when he has that peculiar, discerning smile on his lips as he leans closer to reach for the menu. "Which means I get to make you talk about yourself because-" He scrunches his nose again. He drops his hand on the table, just a few inches shy of Kyungsoo's own. Kyungsoo wants to reach out, to touch, but- "You know what? I just realized that whenever we go out on a coffee date, you deflect all my questions and I end up answering all of them. That's not nice. Why?"

Kyungsoo hums and cocks an eyebrow at him. "Why what?" he asks. "What if this is just how I am?"

"You're a very interesting person, that's what you are." Jongdae smiles at him, eyes disappearing into slits. "And I'm determined to know more about you than your coffee order and work."

Kyungsoo snorts. "Probably not. I have a... very uninteresting life."

"That's what you think." Jongdae leans closer. The tips of their fingers brush. The contact is so brief, feather-light that Kyungsoo could've just been imagining things, but there's no denying the sting of Jongdae's touch. He knows this. He knows Jongdae. He can't be wrong. "Maybe you just need to let the ghosts find you and scare the shit out of you so you can make room in your life for interesting things. Not that I'm saying that you're not interesting-"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "We better order something."

"I dare you to order wasabi latte."

"And I dare you," Kyungsoo begins, then reaches out to slip his fingers between Jongdae's own. He can feel Jongdae's muscles shift, stiffen at the contact. He can feel his stomach turning, lurching. It's a nice lurch, though, the type that sets his skin on fire. The type that urges Kyungsoo to say, "To drink your coffee black. No sugar. Just coffee in all it's black glory."

Jongdae narrows his eyes, but his fingers relax in the fit of their hands. "Is this payback for being such a difficult person to deal with?" he asks, but the twist of his mouth is saying, 'Are you really challenging me? Really now, Do Kyungsoo, are you challenging me?'

"Maybe," Kyungsoo says. He laughs a little. He feels a shiver run down his spine again. They aren't even in the haunted hospital yet. They aren't on set. The film isn't rolling and Jongdae isn't in character yet; the ghosts shouldn't be haunting them at this hour. But the shiver takes over him, makes his breath hitch at the same time that Jongdae brushes his ankle against Kyungsoo's own under the table. So he holds Jongdae's gaze, unwilling to back down. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae, on the glimmer of something indiscernible in his eyes, on the curl of his lips and the allure of his easy smile. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae until memories flash before his eyes - days spent playing in the park, in the sandpit that Kyungsoo can call his only when the other kids aren't around. The day when he showed Jongdae the view of the sea from the beach along Donghae-si. That day when Jongdae ruffled his hair and made him wear a cap because, 'I know it's just a small thing but maybe it can help protect you from the bullies?' The day when he waited for Jongdae in the park, on that slide, until the blinding lights consumed him and rendered him immobile.

"Challenge accepted," Jongdae whispers, a smile surfacing on his lips. And Kyungsoo resurfaces at that - the pull of Jongdae's voice, the ray of light filtering through the waters of the sea. He swims back to the surface and holds onto the first thing he sees - a boat, an outstretched hand, a familiar smile that looks a lot like home.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, shaking the water out of his ears. He grins. "Challenge accepted," he echoes, and pulls Jongdae closer by the hand. Under the table, their ankles brush against each other.

Jongdae doesn't fight the tide. And Kyungsoo lets himself be carried away by the wave of Jongdae's bright laughter.

The wasabi latte is a bad idea, Kyungsoo soon realizes. Halfway through their trip to Gonjiam-eup, he feels his tummy rumbling. It isn't a light tumble or tiny lurch - his stomach is acting up, and he's in Jongdae's car. At least he's not alone, but this really isn't something he'd wish on someone else. Jongdae's breaking out cold sweat and mumbling every few minutes, "My world's spinning 'round and 'round-"

"Fuck. I thought I was going to crash into something," Jongdae says now, pulling over at his designated parking spot. He rests his head on the steering wheel for a while, and Kyungsoo looks to his side to check on him. His fingers are trembling on the wheel and his hair is a mess, but then Jongdae walked into Cork for Turtle with disheveled hair earlier today. His shirt is crumpled from where he's balled his hands into fists earlier. And his chest is heaving, the slow rise and fall of his chest in tandem with his deep breaths.

"I'm never getting into a bet with you again, ever," Jongdae whispers, but he's smiling. His lips fall open to reveal bright teeth and an even brighter smile. Kyungsoo's stomach gives another lurch. "How can you drink something like that on a daily basis? More than once a day?"

"In my defense, I have my Americano only in the morning. The rest of the day, I drink brewed coffee."

Jongdae groans. "It's the same thing. Coffee with water. Flavored beans doused in water and given a fancy name." He brushes his bangs back. Kyungsoo can see him better now, can tilt his head to meet Jongdae's gaze and see if he's really doing fine. He looks a bit pale, but maybe that's because the skies are overcast and there's no warm light to breathe color into Jongdae's cheeks. There's sweat trickling from his forehead down to the sides of his face, leaving a dull line of color on Jongdae's skin. And Jongdae's already wearing make up. Kyungsoo can see it, that thin sheet of foundation that's caking under his eyes, the uneven tone on the bridge of his nose where Jongdae's sunglasses were once rested on. So he reaches forward and flicks off the beads of sweat, then, and evens out Jongdae's make up with his thumb. That way, Soojung won't have to worry that much about evening out his foundation even if Jongdae's wearing a brand that's different from the one they use on set. They'll save time with preparations. They might even be able to cross off more scenes today and finish taping early.

Kyungsoo laughs to himself a little. They're down to the last few scenes, the last few shooting days. It's almost the end of the contract. They're getting closer to the end.

"What-" Jongdae's breath hitches. Kyungsoo blinks a few times, then jerks away just a little when he sees Jongdae looking straight at him. The skin under his palm feels oddly warm, and when he drops his gaze to his free hand he finds it rested on Jongdae's thigh. The muscles in Jongdae's thighs tense. He withdraws his hand and sits on it, but his other hand is still brushing against Jongdae's cheek. He still has four fingers tilting Jongdae's head to the side and his thumb pressing down where Jongdae's make up was caking earlier. He's still doing his job. "What are you-"

"Fixing your make up," Kyungsoo mumbles. He withdraws his other hand, too, then digs deep in his pocket for tissue. He wipes the residual make up on the sheet, then, and balls the tissue into a small ball. "Soojung will throw a fit if she sees the uneven tone. You know how she is."

Jongdae's eyebrows twitch. His lips press into a thin line. There's none of the small smile, the subtle upward tug on the corners of his mouth. There are questions written on the gentle slope of his neck when he tilts his head to the side, on the twist of his mouth just before he sucks in his bottom lip. Kyungsoo can see them, can spend time reading them all and try to give Jongdae answers. "Yeah, she can get pretty crazy sometimes," Jongdae whispers in response. He drops his gaze to his lap for a while, but looks back up to meet Kyungsoo's gaze. "That's all?"

Kyungsoo gulps hard. "Is there anything else that I have to do?"

"No, I mean-" Jongdae scratches on his nape with a nail, and then two, and then three, like he's counting the steps to the next to his next destination. Well, this is it, Kyungsoo muses - they're parked near Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital and it's close to eleven in the morning. They start filming at twelve. They should be getting out of the car, not hovering, waiting and resisting in equal parts. "Never mind."

"There's-" Kyungsoo reaches for Jongdae's nose and rubs at the tip. There was an uneven spot there earlier. Soojung won't miss that. She won't be happy if she saw it, either. It takes longer to even out the tone because Jongdae had pinched his own nose earlier when he couldn't sneeze but wanted to. It's frustrating, Kyungsoo gets that, when things don't go your way even if you keep trying to make things happen. Or when you keep trying to not let things happen but they just do. This time, his eyes are drawn to Jongdae's thin lips, the curl at the corners of his mouth, at his tongue that he darts out to lick his lips. And he tries to look away. He tries to avert his gaze because he can feel explosions setting off at the tips of his toes, can feel his stomach lurching again and again, out of control.

And he hates losing control. He hates it more than wasabi latte at eight in the morning. He hates it more than latecomers and late lunches and finalized dates being pushed back. Losing control makes him feel helpless, and even if he does seek help on this matter nobody will be able to help him. There's no swimming away from this tidal wave, the deluge that Jongdae has brought along with him. There is no escaping this. He's caught in a sticky web and he's trapped in the sweet allure of Jongdae's smile.

"You're really cute," Jongdae whispers. His nose twitches under the pressure of Kyungsoo's fingers, and it makes Kyungsoo jerk back. "You try not to show that you care but you're secretly a marshmallow beneath that tough exterior. Like... chocolate-coated marshmallow."

Kyungsoo snorts. He drops his hand to Jongdae's shoulder. He can feel Jongdae's pulse on the base of his throat. "Marshmallows are unsatisfying."

"I like marshmallows," Jongdae declares. The corners of his mouth tug up. He grins. "They were my favorite back when I was a kid."

When you were still in Donghae-si? Kyungsoo wants to ask. He doesn't. His throat still feels tight and dry and unwilling. His legs feel like jelly. And he can feel the thundering pulse at the back of his ears, loud and deafening. So instead, he checks his wrist watch and says, "It's not time for marshmallows. It's time for work." They only have a few more scenes to shoot. The madness will be ending soon.

Jongdae presses his lips together and curls a corner of his lips. He reaches out, pinching one of Kyungsoo's cheeks, then turns off the engine. "I'm good at multitasking. I can eat marshmallows anytime, anywhere," he says. He slips his keys in his pocket, then, and unplugs his phone from where he's been using it as a music player during the trip. "Even at work."

"No multitasking. I need you to focus," Kyungsoo replies. He cocks an eyebrow at Jongdae when Jongdae makes a tiny sound of protest at the back of his throat. "What?"

"You can't stop me from wanting to eat marshmallows, boss."

"But I can throw them away and make you say your lines," Kyungsoo retorts. He offers Jongdae a wry smile. "Thank you for the ride, but we have to start walking to the set or we'll be late."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Of course. There's still work to be done," he says, then unlocks his door. He casts Kyungsoo a look before going out, though, pins Kyungsoo in place with a gaze one last time before slipping out of his own car and wearing a different skin. Kyungsoo's stomach lurches, one full turn, and then it's gone, replaced instead by the hitching of his breath when Jongdae sucks in his bottom lip and says, "Let's go?"

'Let's run away' would be a better alternative, but they still have a film to finish. There are scenes to shoot. There's work to be done. So he nods, takes Jongdae's outstretched hand when they reach the base of the hill. It will be a steep climb, but they've been doing this for months - there's no reason for them to slip in their steps as long as they grip the railings tight. If they ever do, it's because they've lost focus. It's because one of them risked a glance at the other and looked away from the path, looked at the other longer than he should. They can't take risks.

The ground beneath them cracks a little, but they press on. Kyungsoo tightens his hold on Jongdae's hand and Jongdae does the same. He can feel Jongdae's nails digging into his skin, but it doesn't hurt. At best, it keeps him alert, too aware - of the slide of their fingers against each other, of the way Jongdae shivers when Kyungsoo pulls him closer in an effort to stay balanced as they make their ascent. Of the way their bodies fit - Jongdae sliding his arm around Kyungsoo's waist at the first press of their sides against each other, and Kyungsoo gripping Jongdae tight by the arm.

He can feel Jongdae's pulse in his waist. It tickles his insides, sets off explosions at the tips of his fingers. It drives away the voices - the ghosts - in his mind.

The last scene for the day takes place close to sunset, when the skies are the warmest. They're at the part where Gonjiam Psychiatric will be burned down following an uprising from the patients in the hospital. It's a movement for change, a move to make the twisted hospital staff and management pay the price of giving all these patients false hopes.

"And they're sending out a message to the 'other people', those who think that the people receiving treatment inside are lucky because there's still hope for them. They're telling them that medicine isn't the cure to everything. Well fine, it is most of the time, but when wrongly prescribed and administered, it can cause someone's ultimate demise," Baekhyun explains as he turns the pages of the script. He drops the hand he's been gesturing with in his side and takes a deep breath.

Kyungsoo gives his head cameraman a pat on the back and whispers, "Make sure camera D goes really tight on Jongdae's face. E is for Sehun. I want to see the wrinkles on their face - yeah, that close." He cranes his neck, looking around the set and checking the cast. Joonmyun and Minseok are no longer in their lab gowns. Sunyoung's hair is down and disheveled, but she's still chatting up the two doctors and discussing how to improve her delivery for the part where she fights with the two of them. Sehun's running through his lines in a corner, checking his facial expressions in the mirror. Jongdae, meanwhile, is nowhere to be found. He's supposed to be back from his bathroom break by now.

He gulps down hard. Maybe Jongdae's outside, taking a call or something. He whistles at Baekhyun and mouths, "Look for Jongdae."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him. Over his shoulder, he calls out to Sehun, "F.Y.I., you're supposed to look helpless and hopeless, not constipated!" Sehun grunts in response and sticks up his middle finger. "Thanks, but I'd rather we finish this scene first!" To the other members of the cast, he asks, "Has anyone seen Jongdae?"

Sunyoung shakes her head. Minseok shrugs, but the furrow of his eyebrows says more than it should. Joonmyun takes a deep breath and takes a step forward. "Saw him exit the set through the back door. Oh wait, I saw him climb the stairs to the rooftop. The abandoned basketball court, I think?"

Kyungsoo blinks a few times. Baekhyun looks to his side and cocks an eyebrow at him. He approaches Baekhyun, then, and leans in to whisper, "Has he ever done this in previous shoots?"

"Never," Baekhyun replies. He worries his bottom lip. "He's... always been sorta mysterious, though. I dunno. Even if we've been working with each other for years, I've never felt as if I know him completely. He can be a bit... withdrawn? Depending on his mood?" Baekhyun rubs the underside of his nose. "Never gives too much information about himself, that guy. It's almost like being friends with a stranger."

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows. "He's never talked about his past before? Not even a passing mention?"

"Well, I do know that he's a year our senior in K-ARTS but he had to stop and move to a university in the U.S.. Something about his father constantly being reassigned to different places-"

-and that's the only thing that's constant, Kyungsoo continues in his mind. He remembers Jongdae, as a kid, mentioning that. "Appa... His job involves a lot of traveling? And he brings us with him?" Jongdae had said then. He scrunched his nose and jut out his bottom lip then pursed his lips. Old habits die hard. "It gets very tiring, having to... be prepared to drop things when he asks us to." And as if on cue, Jongdae's father had called him from the car passing the park. It took no more than ten seconds for Jongdae to scramble to his feet, no more than five seconds for Jongdae to look up at him and mumble an apology. The next thing Kyungsoo knew, Jongdae was disappearing behind the big door of the big car, being swallowed by family bonds and responsibility and the desire to make his father proud.

He gulps down hard. That still doesn't explain the disappearance. He looks over his shoulder, then, and asks Joonmyun, "You said you saw him going to the court, hyung?"

Joonmyun nods. "Through the stairway at the back. That's the one that leads to the open court at the rooftop, right?"

"Yes, that's the one," Kyungsoo replies. He looks back at Baekhyun and gives his arm a light squeeze. "Run them through their lines and do a test take with your phone. I want to see the take when I get back. I'll go look for Jongdae."

"Are you sure-" Baekhyun scratches his nape. "I mean, it's... not your job to go looking for missing people, Soo. And you don't know Jongdae. Heck, I don't think anyone here does."

But he's not just anyone. He's one of Jongdae's friends from the past; Jongdae just doesn't know it yet. Or hasn't realized it yet, at least, because Baekhyun's right - Jongdae doesn't drop information about his past. He only ever talks about his most recent projects, his love for stuffed toys and sweet coffee. And living in Donghae-si once, but that's it - Jongdae has never mentioned anything about his family ever since Kyungsoo found him again here in little Gonjiam-eup.

He looks at Baekhyun through the slits of his bangs. "Maybe I know him. From somewhere." He worries his bottom lip. "Go back to work. I'll be back before you know it, don't worry."

Baekhyun snorts. "I'm not worried."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Half of him is thankful that he has his back turned on Baekhyun; the other half wants to look back, over his shoulder. He wants to see the look on Baekhyun's face and see if this really isn't worry or concern, if it's just one of those Baekhyun things that Kyungsoo once mistook for 'feelings'. He doesn't. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the road ahead and says, "Yeah. Of course, you aren't."

"There... There are no ghosts here," Baekhyun says, voice dropping to a whisper. "In case you're wondering. I'm serious about what I said before: I had the place checked and blessed. I have papers to support the claim."

Kyungsoo tucks his chin and laughs a little. There may not be any ghosts around here, but there certainly are ghosts that keep haunting them in their sleep, ghosts that have their fingers wrapped around their necks, keeping them from breathing easily. So Kyungsoo just says, "Glad to know," and makes his way up the staircase. He has to look for his leading man. They have unfinished business to deal with.

The trip to the court at the rooftop isn't easy. The stairs are steep, and the steps are narrow. The railings are rusty and offer little to no sense of security. He grips the one on his right with his hand, then secures his left hand on his left knee. His hold tightens with every passing second, with every flight he climbs. The reward is in seeing Jongdae sitting on the ground, though, when he reaches the rooftop. The warm sunlight makes his hair look like it's on fire, like he is aflame. It breathes a bit of color into him, sets him aglow.

Kyungsoo taps his foot thrice. He leans forward, but doesn't walk closer. He doesn't, until Jongdae looks over his shoulder and tilts his head up.

"May I?" he asks. Jongdae doesn't move, doesn't budge, so he repeats, "May I... join you?"

Jongdae drops his gaze to the ground. A heartbeat, then, "Yeah, sure."

Kyungsoo takes slow, quiet steps forward. He looks around, twisting his torso to get a glimpse of what's behind him. There's a basketball hoop just above the door. There's a tattered banner close by. And there are no ledges here, just steel wires serving as the bounds of the rooftop. It's the perfect scene for the end of a chase scene. If this was an action movie, this very moment, then this is where the final battle will happen - the protagonist battling the antagonist with his bare fists and nothing else. He's at a complete disadvantage but he'll win, anyway, because don't all protagonists win in the end, one way or another? Don't protagonists always emerge as the victor even if they've already been beaten to a pulp? Don't all - or almost all - movies end happily?

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He faces forward, inching closer to where Jongdae is. Jongdae's sitting on the floor, cross-legged. His chin is propped on his clasped hands and the wind is tousling his hair. Up close, he doesn't look as if he's glowing; it looks as if he's burning, being reduced to ashes. His cheeks are pulled down. There are pimples and scars on his cheeks, blemishes that would normally be hidden beneath a sheet of foundation or whatever make up Soojung has decided to put on him. His lips are pressed to a thin, thin line. They're chapped. One side is bleeding.

He's staring at the scene in front of him - tiny Gonjiam-eup with the sunset as the backdrop - through half-lidded eyes. All his shields are up; it almost feels like a dismissal.

Kyungsoo sinks to his knees, then sits beside Jongdae. "Sorry," Jongdae whispers. The wind swallows the word, though, when it blows against their faces. Jongdae tucks his chin and waits for the wind to subside. His hair is a mess now and Kyungsoo would reach out if he could, run his hands through Jongdae's hair and ruffle it, but Jongdae has too many walls up. There are bricks upon bricks slotted between them, keeping them apart. The three inches between them feels like three long kilometers, and Kyungsoo can't run long distances. He's just climbed four floors of a steep staircase; his knees have long given up on him.

He doesn't want to give up on Jongdae, though.

"Sorry," Jongdae says again, louder this time that his voice soars above the whistling of the blowing wind. He draws his legs closer to his chest, and Kyungsoo leans back to get a better look at Jongdae. Jongdae looks up, then, finally meeting Kyungsoo's gaze, and Kyungsoo feels his chest constrict. His throat runs dry and wave of cold engulfs him, takes over him as Jongdae tries to smile. "I thought I could do it but I can't. I wanted to make it work, you know? I tried to. But I just-" Jongdae laughs. It comes out dry and choked. It almost sounds as if he's crying for help. "Years after and it still haunts me. It's so silly. I was, what, ten then? You'd think close to two decades after you'd have already gotten over a tragic incident, but no. You never get over it. You never get over something as traumatic as seeing your parents die saving you."

Kyungsoo takes in a sharp breath. He tilts his head a little. "What... led to it? Why did it have to happen?"

Jongdae exhales through his nose. It sounds a lot like a scoff, like can't believe himself, that's he's been reduced to this. "It was also summer then, when it happened. I don't know exactly but-" He shakes his head. "Hyung said it started with a tiny fire from the candle. Some people said they heard an explosion at the back. That's... close to where our kitchen was." He rubs his nose against his knees. "But investigations say that someone plotted the whole incident, that someone intended to murder my parents. It makes sense - they work in a bank. Of course, they can't approve all the requests for loans. Of course, someone would hate them, but who?"

Kyungsoo swallows hard, but his throat feels too dry and tight. And his muscles aren't cooperating with him. They feel heavy and sore. He feels sore all over. And he can hear the thundering pulse at the back of his ears. He parts his lips to speak, but nothing comes out. All the words he's been keeping at bay, all the coherent thoughts he has prepared for when he's put in a tough situation where he has to be 'spontaneous' - all those words just fade into thin air. Disappear. Like they've been swallowed by the ground whole. He worries his bottom lip, then, and asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jongdae shrugs. "You know, honestly? I really wanted to do it. I wanted to... conquer my fears once and for all." Jongdae lets out a long exhale. "And when I read the script, I thought, hey, this is the perfect opportunity. I get to broaden my experience and force myself to get over my fears from the past. I won't have an excuse to not try hard enough to get over their death. I can do it. But as we started crossing off scenes, as we drew closer to that scene where-"

"Where the building burns down," Kyungsoo whispers. Something in Jongdae's eyes flickers. Kyungsoo can't tell what it is at the moment. He doesn't know this look, hasn't studied it well enough for him to know how to deal with it. So he sticks with what he knows best - playing safe, playing his favorite cards right. Cautiously treading foreign territory and looking around in case someone's waiting for him to make a misstep and to fall. He takes a deep breath, then continues, "And the people inside actually... celebrate. Because they've succeeded in beating the system."

"The scene where Junho faces his fears," Jongdae adds. He worries his bottom lip. "The scene where he finally decides to speak up and tell the doctors that he's done with their shit, that he doesn't need them; he just needs to want to live and move on. I wanted to get to that part. It's... It's the best part of the movie." He lets out a low laugh, still scratchy and breathy. The corners of his mouth are tugged up a little, but it's so light a tug that it could just be Jongdae running his tongue along the front of his teeth. Soon, the smile blooms into something bigger, brighter, a broad smile that reaches his eyes. It doesn't quite breathe life into his eyes yet, though, just adds enough color to his cheeks.

Then the light of the sunset hits him, softening the dark circles under his eyes and washing out the pimples on his cheeks. He looks less like a ghost and more human now. More... Jongdae.

"Baek outdid himself this time, he really did. Didn't think he could write something this... emotional," Jongdae whispers. He laughs a little at that, the corners of his eyes softening. He reaches over, then, tugging at the hem of Kyungsoo's shirt. The pads of his fingers are cold, but his smile is warm. Kyungsoo shivers against the press of Jongdae's fingers to his own. "And you're a great director. You've... helped me feel things characters normally won't. You're... really great at advocating method acting. You'd make a great actor, you know."

Kyungsoo snorts. "I've done it once. I don't have to do it again." He takes a deep breath, and when Jongdae tugs on his shirt he moves even closer. The warmth of Jongdae's side seeps through his shirt, tickles his skin and makes his stomach lurch. "I'm better off behind the lens."

"Trying once isn't enough," Jongdae answers. "Sometimes you have to try and try again."

"Not for this. Not for acting." Jongdae nudges him in his side, but it doesn't hurt. There's a dull ache in Kyungsoo's waist but it's manageable. Bearable. If anything, it knocks wind back into Kyungsoo's lungs and makes him breathe again. It restores the feeling in his fingers, hands, limbs. He can feel his pulse, fast and heavy, at the back of his knees. "I'll just do my best at directing and make sure people do their shit. It's what I'm good at, but there's nothing wrong with getting even better." He slips his hand between their pressed bodies and rests it atop Jongdae's own. He gives Jongdae's hand a light squeeze. "There's... just one thing."

Jongdae leans back a little and meets his gaze. The smile on his lips tugs down into a frown, then juts out into a pout. Now there's the Jongdae he met years ago, in Donghae-si. There's the Jongdae he saw again years after, in a haunted hospital in Gonjiam-eup. This is the person he knows, not the stranger who'd looked up at him with desperation in his eyes and defeat in the hunch of his shoulders. This is Jongdae, the man who walks into the room with nothing but his sunshine smile in hand but draws people to himself without meaning to. This is the hero Kyungsoo had looked up to two decades ago, the same person he'd placed his trust in. This is Kim Jongdae, his actor and his talent. His friend. But there's still a hint of hesitation in Jongdae's features, in the way his lips quiver and his eyebrows twitch. In the way he hooks his fingers on Kyungsoo's own and gives Kyungsoo's hand a tentative squeeze.

"You... You don't have to do that, you know," he begins, voice cracking a little. He breathes in noisily through his nose, then lets out a shaky exhale. "You have to do your job. Part of that is not giving special treatment to people. If you-" Jongdae shakes his head. "If you change the script for me, what happens to the others? The other scenes we've already shot? Or- Or to the whole story, the message Baekhyun's trying to relay when he wrote the script? It's-" He laughs. It sounds more like a wheeze or a cough. The smile on his lips wanes. Kyungsoo feels a shiver run down his spine. "It's not worth it, Soo. It's... inconvenient. I'm just one person. You have an entire production that might suffer the consequences of my, I don't know, bad experience? Trauma? It's... I'll do it."

"But-" But it doesn't matter, Kyungsoo wants to say. He knows how it feels to be forced to be okay with everything, to convince yourself that you'll be okay even if you know very well that you aren't. He knows how it feels to have to lie to yourself for years. So he shakes his head, grips Jongdae tight by the wrist. "We don't have to edit the script drastically or anything. We can change it a bit. Reach a compromise. Find a workaround or something. Jongdae-" He lets out a long and loud exhale. "We make movies to teach people a lesson, not to fool them into thinking that everything's sunshine and rainbows. And if we keep pretending that everything will be alright, if you just 'suck it up' and do the scene but drive yourself crazy after- That's lying to people. That's lying to yourself. That goes against the very point in why we're doing this."

Jongdae scoffs. There's a small smile on his lips, thought, just a light upward tug on the corners of his mouth. "To scare the ghosts of our past away?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "To expose ourselves to ghosts so that one day, we may be immune to them," he begins. He can feel Jongdae's pulse on the side of his thumb quickening. He can feel his own pulse in the press of his thumb on Jongdae's skin. "That's when we fight back. That's when we drive them away. and tell them to never come back."

Jongdae laughs a little. "What if they're stubborn ghosts who keep coming back?"

"Then we remind them that they're just ghosts and that they can't hurt us." Kyungsoo shifts in his seat, turning to his side to face Jongdae. "Because they're just ghosts, and unless we believe in them, they won't bring us harm. They're not real."

Jongdae's eyes widen, and his lips fall open into a small 'o'. Kyungsoo waits - for a response, for Jongdae to say something, anything, but to no avail. Jongdae's just looking at him, staring, head tilted to the side and eyebrows joined together in a light knot. And his hand is shaking. His fingers are trembling in the tight circle of his hand around Kyungsoo's wrist. Kyungsoo feels his chest constrict.

"But... I have a third eye," Jongdae whispers. He laughs a little, shaking his head like he's acknowledging that he's just delivered a really bad joke. "I mean- I-"

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, then gets on his knees. Sometimes, it isn't enough to use incantations to drives spirits away. So he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Jongdae like a cocoon and pulling Jongdae close to his chest. He runs one hand up and down Jongdae's back, a gentle caress along his spine as he whispers in Jongdae's ear, "You're crazy." Jongdae's body goes rigid, muscles tensing against Kyungsoo's own, then his body goes slack. And then Jongdae's burying his face in the crook of Kyungsoo's neck, murmuring something indiscernible against Kyungsoo's skin. Never mind that Kyungsoo reeks of catering food and sweat and fatigue, or that his heart is racing in his chest, beating loudly and wildly against Jongdae's own. Jongdae's body has stopped shaking. Jongdae's fingers are no longer cold and trembling. And Kyungsoo can feel the slow-forming smile on Jongdae's lips burning marks on his skin, the light laughter Jongdae breathes out at the same time that he mumbles, "No, you're crazy, you cuddle bear."

"You... used to do this when we were kids," Kyungsoo whispers. Jongdae shifts a little but doesn't pull away. His pulse is heavy on Kyungsoo's skin. "When you'd... protect me from those bullies throwing pebbles at me in the park. The tall kids who'd always make fun of me." Kyungsoo chuckles, winces when he feels a dull ache on his nape, his shoulders, his back. Years after and there are still shadows, ghosts of those bullies following him around. He shakes his head, shakes those ghosts off his back. He has to do this for himself. For Jongdae. "And after a while, they'd get tired of attacking and leave. Then you'd say-"

"Don't listen to them," Jongdae mumbles. Kyungsoo takes a sharp breath and squeezes Jongdae's arms a little. "Don't listen to them because they don't see what you see. They can't understand what you know about the world. And that's what makes them the real losers and you the winner."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "I can't believe you still remember the whole thing."

Jongdae hums. The vibrations tickle Kyungsoo's skin. "I'm an actor. I'm good at remembering lines, things. It's forgetting that I have trouble with."

Then let me help, Kyungsoo wants to say. Let me help you drive the ghosts away, let me help you get back up. Let me help you forget. But he doesn't. Instead, he says, "It isn't easy. It takes time. It will take a long time," because it's true - nothing good ever comes out of something easy. The best things, the most fulfilling ones, are the ones you pour so much time, effort, blood and sweat into. Sometimes, you have to experience how it is to hit rock bottom, to hit the ground fast and hard to be able to appreciate the joy in floating in the air, slowly falling from the skies and having enough time to look around to see the beauty around you. You have to get nasty cuts, bumps, and scars to be able to feel the relief of watching wounds heal. You have to live in the dark to be able to know that hey, this bright white thing? It's strong enough to counter the darkness. Strong enough to lead people to where you are to pull you out of the shadows. And then you'll realize that there are people around you who'll always, always be willing to pull you out of the shadows and into the light. People who'll be willing to help.

"I can help," he says after a while. Jongdae pulls away a little and looks up, meeting his gaze. "Let me help you, Jongdae."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Reversal of roles, huh? The little kid's the one saving the hero now?" He reaches up and pinches Kyungsoo's nose. "What script are we following now?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. This isn't a reversal of roles. They're two heroes fighting the same villain, taking down the same ghosts. They're part of the same team. So he says, "There is no script," pins Jongdae in place with a gaze and offers him a smile. He doesn't grimace when Jongdae sticks his tongue out at him, doesn't budge when Jongdae pinches his cheeks and jabs him in the gut.

"You're weird," Jongdae whispers, laughing. "Really weird."

Kyungsoo snorts, lips parted and poised to speak, but Jongdae reaches up and cups Kyungsoo's cheeks with his hands. Kyungsoo waits for the joke, the punchline, for Jongdae to squeeze his cheeks again and maybe make fun of the look of surprise on his face, but it doesn't come. Instead, Jongdae just looks at him, eyes dropping from the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose down to the gentle swell of his lips. And Jongdae pulls him close, closer, close enough that he can see the crack on Jongdae's lips, close enough that he can see how long Jongdae's eyelashes are. "Also, very cute," Jongdae whispers, then cranes his neck to press a soft kiss to Kyungsoo's forehead. He can feel his pulse quickening in his palms, the back of his ears and his knees, on the base of his throat, but nothing burns more than the brush of Jongdae's lips on his skin.

"Thank you," Jongdae says. "For being a hero. My little hero."

Jongdae's lips quirk up, and then he's leaning in again to place a soft kiss to the tip of Kyungsoo's nose. Kyungsoo curls his fingers, balling his hands into fists, and takes a deep breath, holds in all the air in his chest until Jongdae moves south, sinking to eye level with him and brushing their lips together, brief and feather-light. "And for remembering," Jongdae whispers when he pulls away. The corners of his mouth are tugged up now and his teeth are peeking from the slight parting of his lips. There's the same old kid Kyungsoo met back when he was in Donghae-si, the same kid who'd saved him even when he hadn't asked for help. The same kid who'd enveloped his arms around Kyungsoo in an effort to keep Kyungsoo from getting hurt. A familiar sizzle rolls down his abdomen as he chases after Jongdae's lips. He closes his eyes this time, blurs the image of the sunset at the back of his eyelids. He focuses on the movement of Jongdae's lips against his, the inelegant slide of their mouths, the warmth of Jongdae's palms on his shoulders. The fit of their bodies here at the height of summer, in the rooftop of an abandoned hospital, miles away from home.

This isn't in the script, a voice in his head says, but he pushes that to the back of his mind and balls his fists in Jongdae's shirt. This is the outtake, what happens behind the scenes that's better than the story itself. This is the magic that happens long after the main storyline has come to an end. It's the snippet that comes after the credits that always, always catches people unaware. This is the perfect ad lib that spices up all that's been rehearsed.

They are the greatest stunt ever. They are at tipping point, ready to freefall. So Kyungsoo pushes himself off the ledge, pulling Jongdae along with him through the link of their hands.

They fly.

PART 6