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“Why,” Luka asks, hair matted down the side of his face with red corn syrup.
“Because you owe Hyunwoo,” Ivan reminds him, handing over a box of tissues and a pack of wet wipes. Luka can hardly refute that.
They all owe Hyunwoo, who looks out for his famous, attractive friends with the empathy of a man whose face at age nine had been plastered on a billboard in Times Square. He had been a cute dorky kid who film tested well; he grew into himself as a good looking normie. Nobody recognized him without prompting, and while he was cute, he wasn’t double-take-in-the-streets celebrity handsome. It gave Hyunwoo a kind of magical cloaking device compared to the rest of them, their protector against the ills of Famous People Problems. Hyunwoo stood in line for them at burger joints, made coffee runs, picked up safety pins and new stockings and lied to press, fans and managers alike while they all slipped out a side entrance. Half the time he was behind the wheel of the getaway car that picked them up cowering in the bushes afterward. Every one of them owes Hyunwoo for the little bit of normal he brings into their messy, sheltered lives but since Luka’s in love with his sister, Luka owes a little more. Hence the excessive corn syrup, applied with the heaviest of hands even for a horror film production.
“You’re dripping on the floor, go outside to wait for call.” Ivan pushes Luka back toward the door of the trailer with two fingers, trying to avoid the sticky patches all along his back.
“Heartless,” Luka complains. “It’s freezing out there. Is this how you treat your best friend in the world? I’m bleeding out and you’re worried about the linoleum.”
“Red dye leaves stains, and I remember you calling us ex-colleagues at best when I asked for a sandwich at break time.”
“I take craft services very seriously and you’d already had three, you cow. Bread makes you fat, you just see if darling Till gives you a second look when you’re waddling through the door in sweatpants.”
“I can’t even get a second look now,” Ivan mutters, mostly to himself.
Luka snakes out an arm to grab hold tightly of the doorframe on either side to keep Ivan from ejecting him out into the night. “Is that why you’re being such a princess? If you’re trying to make a good impression, you should have started when you were still on the same project. One set visit does not a relationship make.”
“That’s why I have you, Luka.” Ivan says, voice suddenly sticky-sweet. Ivan curls one arm against Luka’s shoulder, the other leaning against the doorframe. The pose has gone suggestive in an instant. Luka frowns.
“You idiot, what are you doing?”
“Hello, Hyuna,” Ivan says clearly, looking over the top of Luka’s head. Luka snaps to attention like a dog called to heel.
“Hi.” Hyuna stands on the other side of the screen door, pulling her hair to the side over one shoulder with both hands, a soothing gesture she makes on set when she’s feeling nervous. “I’m not being a bother, am I?”
“No,” Luka says, trapped between the screen door and Ivan.
“Good.” She smiles at him hesitantly. “I wanted to come by and thank you. Both of you, I mean. Everyone’s so busy and booking such huge jobs, I know Hyunwoo really appreciates you taking the time for this. I do too.”
“How could we miss his directorial debut? And I’ve always wanted to be dismembered and put in a wheelbarrow.” Ivan grins at her and Hyuna’s smile turns up too.
“Right? It’s so fun! I’ve been practicing my scream for ages for when I find you, like-” Hyuna takes a gulp of air, puts her hands to either side of her face and lets out a convincing shriek.
“Hyuna!” Hyunwoo screams from a distance. “Quiet on set!”
“Oops,” She whispers, ducking down in embarrassment.
“Excellent voicework - but you should be careful not to strain yourself before tomorrow’s shoot. Lots of big screaming scheduled. We had to deal with voice strain a lot during the idol days, didn’t we Luka?” Ivan asks, bumping their shoulders together.
“Some idiots did,” Luka concedes, holding tight to his cool adultyness by a few snagged threads. “It’s easy for a half trained amateur to overdo it.”
“Ah,” Hyuna says, a little red faced. “That happens to me all the time. I guess it is dumb, not taking care of your voice when you’re in the biz, huh? I’m still a little new to things, but I can’t make that excuse forever.”
“Ha ha ha,” says Ivan fakely, in a way that translates to nice work, Luka. Luka casually steps backwards in a way that lets him kick his heel into Ivan’s shin.
“I should-”
“Get some advice from Luka on voice care? What a great idea, he’ll just be sitting around doing nothing for the next couple of hours. He can tell you all about his pre and post show routine. I know part of it involves drinking tea together, slowly, on a regular basis. Preferably while talking about your hobbies and interests and ideal type of man.”
“Yeah? That would be a huge help.” Hyuna sparkles at them and Ivan can hear Luka swallow, hard.
“Of course,” Luka manages. “I’m always available to help someone just starting out.”
When Ivan was a newcomer, he’d stepped left upstage instead of right downstage and scuffed the side of Luka’s shoe during group auditions. It had taken them three months on tour before Luka called him by name instead of Two-Left-Feet, or Twoey for short.
“Of course you are, sweetheart,” Ivan says viciously, pressing a brief kiss to the side of Luka’s head untouched by syrup.
“I’ll go heat up the kettle in my trailer, take your time!” Hyuna says with a wink and a thumbs up and a grin before scurrying off.
“I’ll actually kill you,” Luka says darkly. “It’ll take them hours to realize your body’s not a prop, I’ll be halfway to the Virgin Islands by then.”
“She loved it, did you see that wink? She absolutely had a Lukavan fan account back in the day. Or maybe Ivalu, what do you think? Would you let me top you, Luka?”
“You’re lucky I don’t like men. If your obnoxious charm worked on me, we’d have gotten married on that overseas tour years ago and you’d be committing adultery with your precious Till right under my nose, you unfaithful thing. One of us would probably end up stabbing you.”
“Hot,” Ivan says, laconically. “Don’t keep Hyuna waiting.”
“I won’t.” Luka opens the screen door, then turns around quickly. Luka smacks the side of his syrup covered hand against Ivan’s cheek, leaving a cold smear of fake blood all over his face.
“Thanks for the assist,” Luka snickers, then dashes off before Ivan can react.
The little huff in the air is hardly a laugh but Ivan knows it. He’s halfway down the stairs in two stumbles.
“Till,” he says, the word bursting out of him like the note of a trumpet, discordant and bright.
“Hey,” Till answers, standing just out of sight from the door, smoking a cigarette.
“How long have you been there?”
“Since Luka threatened to murder you. I figured I’d find you if I followed the screaming. If it’s premeditated, I think he’ll get murder one, so you got that going for you.”
“Aw, would you snitch for me?” Ivan asks, enamored.
“For my favorite little newbie? Absolutely.”
“Didn’t you say smoking was bad for people in the biz?” Ivan asks, pouting a little. He’s jealous of the way Till’s mouth curls around the cigarette.
“Do as I say and not as I do.” Still, Till grinds out the half smoked cigarette against the heel of his boot before tucking the end into a portable ashtray. “Let’s go in.”
“Whatever you say,” Ivan agrees, holding the door for him. Inside the trailer is small but clean and well organized. Several long folding tables are set against the wall with masking tape clearly marking each prop’s assigned area: flashlight, evil medallion, severed arm. Till pokes around while Ivan cleans off his face.
“I heard you were on a shoestring budget, but I didn’t realize how thin it stretched before I got here. You’re props master and you’ve got a decent sized role, don’t you?” Till reaches over to tap the handle of the rubber axe on the table with one finger.
“I’m the final girl’s brother, but I die pretty early on,” Ivan says, handing over a copy of his script. Till thumbs through the highlights and tabs sticking out a little thoughtfully; the method was something Till had taught him in their Alien Stage days a couple years back and Ivan still uses it.
“All the male cast does,” Till notes after a few minutes of quiet perusal. Till had offered to help Ivan look over script offers back then. It had probably been a glib nicety but Ivan has been shameless enough to impose as often as he could manage with their schedules. It’s been a while, though. Till’s been working overseas and Ivan’s been guesting on dramas and variety shows left and right. Ivan had been in the earliest stages of the mourning process of their whatever this was until he found out Till was coming by today. Friends is both too strong a word and too light.
“He’s going for the subversive female gaze,” Ivan says, parroting back Hyunwoo’s rousing opening speech first day of read throughs.
“Or he knew it would be easier to get big names like you and Luka to show up if it was a shorter time commitment,” Till says dryly. “Mizi and Hyuna don’t have nearly the same commitment schedule yet.”
“I’m staying till the end,” Ivan says with a half smile. “Props don’t involve much time so I can take over craft services when Luka leaves a little early for Tokyo next week. I already help out with make-up and effects while Mizi’s shooting, I’m handy with a vial of fake blood.”
“Hyunwoo knew what he was doing, recruiting you,” Till says, perching on the edge of an empty table, its contents on set for the shoot now. “You really go all out for the people you love.”
“You’re the same,” Ivan says, pointedly ignoring the simmering warmth of Till saying people you love. “Why else would you come all the way out here and crash overnight to film a ten second cameo?”
Till hums a little. “Technically true, but you think too well of me. In my case, it’s the other way around.”
“I don’t understand,” Ivan says, then Till leans over to kiss him. When Till leans back, he’s smiling a little; when he sees Ivan’s expression, he laughs out loud. He looks exhausted and overworked, eyes smudged dark from a lack of sleep and yet so - so happy. Happy to be here, dead on his feet from an eight hour shoot and a six hour car ride, all to see Ivan. To kiss Ivan.
“You know… I’ve been doing this shit since before I could walk but the most fun I ever had on a set was with you. I figured a few more years in the grinder would wear off your shine and at least one of us would lose interest but it didn’t happen that way, did it?” Till reaches up to tilt Ivan’s face minutely, better to look at his dark, unusual eyes.
Helplessly, Ivan reaches up to hold Till’s hands in place on the sides of his face, afraid he might change his mind if Ivan breaks contact. They smell vaguely like cigarettes. It wasn’t good for his voice, so Till didn’t smoke much and never in public. He had been nervous.
“If you don’t say something, I’ll kiss you again,” Till threatens, so Ivan leans down first this time. He does talk, in between, here and there: how long and since when and why why why until Till veers off to bite gently at Ivan’s ear.
“I’m sick of you making those puppy eyes at me every time we end up in the same place. Take some responsibility, rookie. I’m doing this dumb cameo so I can spend the night with you.”
Till is the best so his cameo as a store clerk only takes a half an hour to can; Hyunwoo catching Till’s reflection in the glass door of a drink refrigerator and recording his droll that will be six seventy-five. They even have time for a silly outtake where Till flips off the camera in the reflection for the gag reel.
Ivan’s not in the habit of asking to leave early; if he’s not in dire need of sleep or a shower, he vastly prefers to be kicking around the set than sitting bored in his hotel room. Today is different though, so he smoothly suggests maybe those who have first call tomorrow should call it a night now and be bright eyed and bushy tailed early in the morning.
“Yeah, sure. Not too early though, ten’s fine. We want the light to be consistent with what we shot yesterday.” Hyunwoo says casually and Ivan realizes that every person in the room from director to dolly grip knows what he and Till are about to go and do. It ought to horrify him, it’s the kind of scandal that can overshadow a production and bury it, but instead it’s a thrill. This is the safest place in the world for this to happen, and he practically skips his way off set.
“Down boy,” Till says, amused. “Heel.”
Ivan, like the eager working dog he is, leads the way to the rental car and up to the third floor hotel room. It’s clean but small and somewhat shabby and Ivan glances nervously around wondering what it looks like to Till.
“One of my early films was a slasher,” Till says mildly, leaving his shoes at the entrance.
“Bloodmurdia 3: The Reckoning,” Ivan reels off automatically. Till half smiles as he starts to unzip his hoodie.
“I should have known. I bet you could tell me every fun fact on IMDB.”
Ivan smiles back. He knows the Wikipedia Production Section by heart too, but no need to be a show off.
“Then you know we were on a three week shoot in the middle of the woods during rainy season. I had to cram into a Coleman built for two with a crew of five. This place is fine. Though I guess maybe you were imagining something a little nicer for this than a budget hotel midshoot.”
“I never imagined,” Ivan says sincerely, riveted to the spot as Till tosses hoodie and t-shirt both over a nearby chair. “It was impossible.”
“That awe never wavers. It’s cute. I’d say I’m not that impressive, but I don’t think you have that much experience, do you? At least not with men.”
“Not at all,” Ivan admits. He drifts closer and takes Till’s hands in his. For a moment they stand looking at each other, just holding hands like some kind of weird wedding tableau. Ivan feels inordinately sweaty. Then Till puts one of Ivan’s hands on his bare chest and directs the other toward the waistband of his jeans.
“That does surprise me. Your agency told you not to?”
“It was heavily implied.” Ivan takes three tries to get the button and zip undone.
“What a good kid you are.” Till watches Ivan get on his knees to pull Till’s pants and underwear down. “Suck me off,” Till says, fisting a hand in the back of Ivan’s hair. Ivan falls on him eagerly, mouth wide and wet. Ivan knows he must be bad at this, a slobbering virgin with no technique, but he hopes his enthusiasm might earn him a few more points. Ivan is sure no one has ever wanted a cock in his mouth as much as Ivan wants Till’s.
“Fuck,” Till sighs, pulling back enough to sink onto the bed. He hooks his legs over Ivan’s shoulders and relaxes his whole body into it. He looks like he might fall asleep and that turns Ivan on too; that Till might let Ivan see him stretched out nude and sleeping for hours, long enough for Ivan to memorize every freckle, every mole.
Just as Ivan’s jaw tires, Till pushes himself a few inches by digging his heels into Ivan’s back. The invitation is obvious; Ivan hikes Till’s hips up comfortably with a pillow beneath and transfers his attentions further down. He eats Till out for what feels like forever, until Till says touch me touch me and Ivan jerks him roughly to a finish.
“Fuck my face,” Till says, reaching for Ivan’s belt, and Ivan comes before he can even get his pants off all the way.
“Probably for the best,” Till says critically, running his hands casually over Ivan’s spent dick before tucking him back into his ruined underwear. “I’ve got a commercial shoot for tomorrow and that thing would rip my voicebox out.”
Ivan supposes that normally one would apologize, but if anything this has been expeditious. His own physical pleasure is a sidenote; aborting their tryst so that Till can rest even a few minutes more is ideal. Ivan cleans up Till with a warm wet washcloth, drying his skin carefully after with a second softer towel. Following his mumbled directions and vague gestures, Ivan re-dresses Till in his boxers, turns the room temperature to just around freezing, and tucks the comforter around Till securely. Then Ivan sits in the chair closest to the bed.
“That’s weird,” Till complains. “At least stare lying down.”
Ivan doesn’t think he’ll sleep at all, but somewhere between matching his breathing with Till’s and counting Till's heartbeats while Ivan holds his wrist, he must drift off for a bit. When he wakes, Till is already dressed, brushing his teeth at the sink with Ivan’s toothbrush. Would it be strange to keep that? No, Ivan decides, it would only be strange to be found keeping it.
From the light coming in through the curtains it must be very early. Ivan stays still and quiet but something must give him away.
“Go back to sleep,” Till says, spitting into the sink with his back toward Ivan. “I’ll get a cab to the airport, Freddie’s going to meet me there with my stuff.”
Caught out, Ivan rolls over on his stomach, propping his head on his folded arms to better watch Till openly. Ivan would like to drive Till, but no need to push his luck. He’s had twelve hours with Till, the expiration date has come and gone. Ivan mourns that he didn’t think to hide Till’s wallet while he’d been sleeping to buy a little more time. Till rinses his mouth and runs a hand through his hair before taking one of Ivan’s going in public face masks from the box near the sink.
Till’s phone buzzes.
“That’s my ride,” he says, putting it into his pocket and heading to the door.
“Goodbye,” Ivan says, hiding his bitter smile against his pillow.
“Yeah.” Till throws a careless wave over his shoulder. “See you Friday.”
“Friday,” Ivan echoes.
“Well, I might finish in time to get back Thursday night, but it would be late. I don’t want to wake you coming in.” Till glances back and pauses with one shoe on. “What the hell are you making that face for?”
“Did Hyunwoo say you needed to do reshoots?”
“Fuck no, I told him I was one and done.” Till’s phone buzzes again.
“Then why would you come back here?” Ivan asks, confused. Till stares.
“Am I out of practice or is this on you?” Till asks, annoyed. “What did you think all this was?”
“Throwing a dog a bone?”
“Idiot,” Till says with obvious affection. “You’d be better off with an actress your own age for the publicity, or someone behind the scenes in tech or costuming nobody cares about. I’m probably the worst choice you could make. We’re both busy as fuck and we have to keep it secret when it’s front page news if you buy your own smoothie.”
Till pauses to examine Ivan, sprawled out in the sheets with his hair mussed and his eyes dark and warm with uncomfortable, earnest feelings like hope and love.
“Even with all that, I’m making my case. It’s cute you think I’m giving up after one lousy bj with too much teeth.”
“Should I practice before Friday?” Ivan wonders. Luka does owe him a favor now.
“If you want to get dismembered for real. Be a good boy and wait, yeah?” The door closes.
“Woof,” Ivan says forlornly to the empty room.