Chapter Text
“Kim Seokjin.”
“Kim Taehyung. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you. So…”
“Yeah. Casual conversation. Make it look natural. That sort of thing. So, you do this kind of thing often?”
“Well it’s my fourth job this week,” Seokjin sighed. He should have been ecstatic over such an abundance of work but he was just worn out with nameless cattle calls for uncredited extras. Just once, he wanted to move up to something more distinguished, like "Man with dog" or "Shopper Number 3." Not that he minded paying his dues--he knew that becoming a profitable and famous actor rarely happened over night--but he really wanted to also be able to pay his rent. These extra jobs just weren't cutting it, even with his shifts waiting tables.
“That’s great!” Seokjin squinted at the enthusiasm in the kid’s voice. He looked like a kid. Baby face, perfectly smooth jawline, long eyelashes, wide smile showing a million perfect teeth. He was like a toothpaste commercial come to life, all morning smiles and sunshine. Seokjin tried not to wrinkle his nose. He was grateful that at least his partner in background boredom was at least nice to look at, even if he was sickeningly sweet. “This is my first.”
“Job this week?” Seokjin asked, trying to keep up the pretense of enjoying a nice meal with his… friend, boyfriend, business partner or whatever it was they were supposed to be. They were extras. It’s not like they had a lot of backstory. Client , Seokjin decided. Eclectic client that I must indulge because he’s filthy rich, even if wardrobe did dress him like some sort of department store sweater model.
“No, ever. I’ve never done this before. It’s kind of exciting, isn’t it? I just read about it in the paper, and I was free this morning, so I thought I’d swing by and give it a shot. I don’t know if I’m really good at acting though. But no one is really paying attention to us anyway, right?” Taehyung swept his hands in a wide circle around the set populated with small, round, white tablecloth covered tables identical to theirs, each topped with a different semi-realistic plastic flower and a tiny flickering electric votive candle.
Seokjin just blinked. This kid was unreal. Just wandering into a movie like it was no big deal. Though, to be honest, with a face like that he could probably walk into just about anything he wanted. Except maybe a bar. “How old are you, Kim Taehyung?”
“Freshly 22 and loving every minute of it.” Taehyung lifted his cup of fake tea and pretended to take a delicate sip, long fingers wrapped around the cup in a highly distracting fashion. “And you?”
“Twenty five,” Seokjin mumbled, still staring at Taehyung’s hands. They were good hands. Piano player hands. Musician hands. Symphony hands. Hand-cream advertisement hands. Seokjin raised his eyebrows, trying to steer his thoughts back towards making polite conversation, trying to remember that he had a job to do. A job that would put a drop in the bucket he was desperately trying to fill on his way to stardom and financial independence. “So, um, yeah, Taehyung, you, um, you like movies?”
“CUT!” the director shouted and Taehyung jumped in his chair, startled and grinning adorably.
“Oh wow, so that was our first take? How cool. How many takes do they usually do?” Taehyung was craning his neck, looking around and waving at the other tables and anyone who would make eye contact.
“Depends on how good the main actors are,” Seokjin said with a wry smile. “We could be done in an hour, or we could be here all day.” He shrugged, twirling the plastic flower with one twisted finger. He quickly withdrew his hand, stuffing it underneath his thigh. No need to show Mr. Perfection McSmilesAtEveryone his less than perfect features. He was the older, more experienced one here. He needed to be confident and calm, show Taehyung what it was like being a real actor. Or a real waiter trying to be an actor. Or something. A confident, calm, brilliant actor who would capture the hearts of anyone who saw him in the hopefully 30 seconds of film he might be present in.
“Really? Wow. So we can really get to know each other then. We have so much time to talk!” Taehyung tilted his head, still smiling that wide, toothy grin
.”Great.” Seokjin smiled back, face tense with the effort of not scoffing. Who was this kid? Didn’t ke know that this was just filler, small talk and emoting with their faces while pretending to eat the inedible stuff they dressed the set with? This was what acting was all about. Pretending. Making people believe what the scene called for. And this scene called for him to be happily and comfortably making conversation with this over-eager, niave bundle of too-beautiful-for-his-own-good sunshine. Seokjin liked being the prettiest person in the room. It was comforting and familiar. He squared his broad shoulders and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, giving Taehyung his best smile. A winning smile. A smile that made women swoon and men jealous. Confident. Calm. “But let’s save it for when the camera is rolling.”
“You what?”
“I walk dogs.”
“For a living?”
“Yeah. Morning, afternoon and evening walks six days a week. I do it in shifts. Two morning, two evening. Only one afternoon. It’s about 50 dogs total, but not everyone walks every day. Six dogs per walk maximum is my rule. I try to group them by size, because a maltese and a pyrenees on the same walk is a recipe for disaster but that doesn’t always work for everyone’s schedules.”
“And that’s all you do? You just… walk dogs?”
“Well, for an extra fee I do the occasional bath and brushing, but yeah, mostly I just walk them. Sometimes I use my skateboard.”
“Of course you have a skateboard.”
“Do you? They’re so much fun.”
“Uh, no, Taehyung. I don’t. I’m not really… coordinated.”
“CUT!”
“A waiter who’s trying to be an actor. It’s like the biggest, most over-done cliche on the planet, you know? I just don’t know how to make it any different. I need the flexibility of waiting tables to be able to even try getting a foot in the door at jobs like this.”
“No, I totally get that. Most stereotypes got to be that way for a reason. Like you said, it works for you, so keep doing it. And, honestly, it’s not your foot you have to get in the door. It’s your face. And with your face, not to mention the shoulders, you should have gotten your break ages ago. I’m sure it’ll happen soon!”
“Are you always this optimistic and complimentary?”
“Yep!”
“Good. For a second there I almost started to feel I was special.”
“Hey, wait, you are! I just--”
“CUT!”
“I’m serious, Taehyung.”
“So am I!”
“You wanted to be an elephant when you grew up?”
“Yes! I told my mom like a million times a day. My grandma says I would only wear grey clothes for like three months. I still remember swinging the arms of my hoodies around as though they were a trunk.”
“And here I thought astronaut was the most far-out thing a kid could imagine being.”
“Only because space is far away. In that respect, elephant is a much more reasonable career choice. The zoo is only a few miles away.”
“You know, I’ve never been.”
“What?! Kim Seokjin, how do you live with yourself!”
“CUT! Table 13, keep the volume down, please.”
“Yessir.”
“Yessir.”
“Strawberries. And you?”
“Trick question. All food is my favorite.”
“I like things that are easy to eat with my hands. Less cooking, more eating.”
“Well, with hands like yours, I can see why.”
“Hands like mine?”
“You know, perfect ones.”
“Thanks, but they’re just hands. You know, everybody’s got them. Well, shit, okay, not everyone. I didn’t mean, I’m sorry. That was really, I mean, um… you have hands, but some people don’t and that’s okay, and I didn’t mean to say--”
“It’s fine. I know what you mean. But my hands are… well they’re not as great as yours.”
“Oh. Oh, I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t said something. So they’re a little crooked. Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes. Not a lot. I wear splints when it gets too bad.”
“And you still cook with them, so really, they can’t be all bad.”
“No, they’re not all bad. They’re just not all that pretty.”
“Well something about you had to be less than perfect. Otherwise we’d all be intimidated 24/7.”
“CUT! Table 13, good job with the flirting, but less hand-holding. Don’t want to steal the spotlight from the real romance, right?”
“Yessir.”
“Yessir.”
“So you grabbed it with your bare hands?”
“Of course. I couldn’t let it get away! I had to have evidence. Literally no one would have believed the story if I didn’t.”
“I don’t believe the story now.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen it. I had it stuffed. It’s on my mantle.”
“Oh, gross! You look at it every day?”
“You know, you come that close to death, you need the daily reminder to just do what you love.”
“Right, but… but… I don’t want to almost die to learn how to live.”
“Wow. Seokjin. That’s profound. You’re more than just a pretty face, huh?”
“CUT! Table 13, can you please tone it down a bit? You’re background. Keep the giggling to a minimum.”
“Yessir.”
“Yessir.”
“I’m serious. The secret is salt. It’s a chemistry thing.”
“I’m not totally hopeless in the kitchen, but I’m still not adding salt to my hot chocolate.”
“You’re missing out. Trust me. Not a lot, just a little, itty-bitty, tiny sprinkle. On top of the whipped cream. Plus, it makes a really fun pattern as it dissolves.”
“Maybe you should just make it for me.”
“I can do that.”
“Yeah? You can come to my kitchen and cook for me?”
“On one condition, Taehyung. You take that thing down from the mantle. I don’t want it to sour the cream before I’ve had a chance to whip it.”
“You can whip me.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I said… that sounds peachy.”
“CUT! Table 13, again with the giggling. Cut it out or we’ll cut you from the scene, got it?”
“Yessir.”
“Yessir.”
“It’s butter, by the way.”
“What is?”
“The ice cream.”
“The ice cream is butter? That sounds like some sort of spy code. Are you a spy, Kim Taehyung?”
“No. I just watch a lot of late night television. On one of those how-things-work shows, there was an episode all about the fake food they use in commercials and tv and stuff. Most tv ice cream is just butter with food coloring that’s been sculpted to look like ice cream.”
“Seriously?”
“No, don’t do that! It doesn’t taste--”
“Ugh, that’s awful! And now my finger is all greasy. That is definitely not butter. Ugh. Hand me your napkin.”
“Well like I said, it’s sculpted and then they spray it with a veneer to keep it from melting under the lights.”
“Now you tell me.”
“I tried to warn you.”
“You did. Sorry.”
“No problem. I just don’t want to give you any more reasons to dislike me.”
“Dislike you? Why would I--”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it. I could tell from the moment we started talking. I have lots of practice being weird, so I’m really used to all the signals that mean someone is annoyed with me.”
“I’m not--”
“But you’re really good at hiding it. You’re a really great actor, Seokjin.”
“Thanks, Taehyung.”
“CUT! Table 13, come on. Stop making the gooey love eyes at each other for half a second and just blend into the background, alright?”
“Yessir.”
“Yessir.”
“I wasn’t lying, you know.”
“About your cooking skills? Yeah, I figured you must be a real whiz with a knife. I fully believe that you can mince an entire onion in less than a minute.”
“Taehyung, you don’t annoy me.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m serious. I’ll admit I was uncomfortable with a younger than me, prettier than me, just walked on to a movie set and got a job with no effort person being my partner for this, but you are so easy to talk to. I think I’ve told you more stories than anyone at the restaurant, and I’ve been working there for three years.”
“Well thanks, Seokjin. That’s really sweet of you to say.”
“I just want you to know that--”
“But I’m not, you know.”
“What?”
“Prettier than you.”
“Now, you just stop with the eyelashes and your adorable little nose and that smile. You’re beautiful and you know it.”
“Oh sure. I’m good-looking. I get hit on all the time. But you’re like a sculpture, only warmer.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“You can say ‘thank you’ to start.”
“Thank you.”
“And you know it, too. You know how to work that face of yours. I saw you give me your best smolder when the camera started rolling.”
“Well yeah, you don’t spend years trying to make it as an actor without some confidence of face. I’m really good-looking. And I’m a great cook. And I’m a fantastic actor. I even sing.”
“Wow. Next you’ll be telling me you’re a wonderful dancer, too.”
“Uh, no. That’s one thing that I can’t do.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty good. I could show you sometime.”
“I think I’d like that.”
“Clothing optional.”
“What was that? You’ve got to stop mumbling, Taehyung.”
“I said, uh, they’re closing, aren’t they now?”
“Yeah, looks like it.”
“CUT!”
Seokjin watched as the director walked over to their table, trying to swallow down the fear. This was the final straw. They’d distracted the director one too many times and now they were going to get kicked out, maybe even not get paid for the past four hours. Seokjin had been counting on his paycheck. He needed to buy cat food on the way home. He promised his older brother that he would pay him back for the new tire he’d had to buy last week. He had promises to keep, so why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut and make polite small talk like every other table on set? Why did he have to tell real stories about his real life and his real kitchen to this really fascinating Kim Taehyung?
“Look you two,” the director said, leaning down to place both his hands on the table. He towered over them, broad shoulders, thick arms, short dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses all lending him an air of someone not to be messed with. “I’ve got enough on my hands with the one love-story I’m trying to film. I’d really appreciate it if you two could just try to reign it in a bit. Stop flirting so hard. Stop batting your eyelashes and playfully hitting one another. Stop the love-sick giggles and coy smiles. Just pretend to be brothers or something. Can you do that?”
Seokjin nodded furiously while Taehyung closed his gaping mouth and did the same. “Of course. I’m so sorry, Director.”
“Thanks. And here’s my card. Call this number in the morning. I’ve got some walk-on roles I need filled. Show me you can actually follow directions today, and you might actually get to say some lines.”
Seokjin couldn’t take his eyes of the tiny white rectangle in front of him. The director’s card. He was being noticed. This might be his big break. Things might finally be turning around. He could almost taste the steak he was going to buy with his first real paycheck. “Yes, Director. Thank you, Director.”
“Thank you, Director,” Taehyung mumbled next to them. The director turned on his heel and walked back to the camera, muttering something to the cameraman before grabbing his stool and perching on the edge of the scene.
“ACTION!”
“He really gave you his card! That’s so great, Seokjin.”
“I know. I’m kind of stunned. I thought he was going to throw us out.”
“Me too.”
“But you’re too good to let go.”
“Thanks, Taehyung. I’m still kind of reeling. I mean, Kim Sejin is kind of a big deal.”
“And now, so are you.”
“You know, I wouldn’t have gotten this if not for you.”
“Me?"
“You, Kim Taehyung, are like my muse. You made all this easier. If I caught his attention, it’s only because you caught mine.”
"That's a smooth line, Kim Seokjin."
"It's the naked truth."
"Speaking of naked..."