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Four days of non-stop cameras, green screens, and costume changes culminate into one last round of chandelier joyrides, before the director yells a final cut, signalling the official end of filming for the ‘Make a Wish’ MV.
Xiaojun is exhausted, but he joins the chorus of thank yous and applause led by Taeyong, bowing his head at every staff member he runs into while going around the set.
The cameramen begin to pack up almost immediately, and somewhere in the background Lucas hollers excitedly about wanting to take the chandelier back to the dorms for Bella (and by extension, Louis and Leon) to play with when they’re out.
Xiaojun sighs, wondering how in hell Lucas had that much energy left in him after a whole day of filming.
All of this has honestly been a lot to take in. Xiaojun slips out and makes his way to the dressing rooms, only to find himself still double-taking at the words ‘NCT U’ plastered in bold letters over the door. The cognitive dissonance plays a record scratch in his brain, making him want to look for the room that has ‘WayV’ written outside instead, but he knows full well he won’t find it here.
He’s NCT now, too, even if part of him still can’t believe it. He cracks a secret smile to himself as he enters the room.
Of course, it has always been in the plans. Even back then, everyone knew — from 127 to Dream to the rotational members and the rookies — that WayV will debut at the beginning of the new year with some members of NCT 2018.
They’ll be left to their own devices for an unspecified period of time under Label V, and when the time comes, they’ll return back into the fold to complete the neo culture multiverse that will set the world on fire — according to the PPT deck, at least.
The uncertainty of the dates were kinda sus, even to Xiaojun. But he remembers the company executives sounding pretty certain about the whole thing, so he didn’t worry too much. He was too busy trying to make sure he debuts in WayV anyway. And if he gets the chance to be part of something bigger in the future… well that’s just a bonus.
That was him then. The Xiaojun of the present with yellow hair and bleached brows that looks back at him from the illuminated vanity wishes he had spent more time mentally preparing himself for this, because — fuck ! Holy shit, this is actually bananas.
“Checking yourself out?”
Xiaojun whips his head so fast that he’s afraid his contacts might have popped out, but when his eyes refocus on the figure by the door, he actually wishes they did.
“N-no,” Xiaojun says, internally cursing himself for sounding so shaky. “Why would I do that?”
Jaemin raises a brow before stepping fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. “Why wouldn’t you? A face like yours deserves to be admired.”
Xiaojun lets out a weak laugh and glances down, not knowing what to say.
To be fair, he’s always been pretty bad at eye-contact. When he met Ten for the first time, he had to stare at the space between his brows for weeks because he couldn’t handle how pretty he was. Last week when Johnny complimented his English, he almost choked on his own spit and had to disappear for the rest of the day.
But this is different. Jaemin hasn’t moved a single inch from the door but Xiaojun feels him all up in his space. He feels his eyes trail him everywhere. It’s unnerving.
“I mean it,” Jaemin says, when Xiaojun doesn’t respond. He shoves his hands into his pockets and walks over, necklaces glinting under the light. “I’ve seen the cuts. You were great out there.”
“Thanks? You too.” Xiaojun exhales, and then clears his throat. “But I guess you already knew that.”
That brings a reaction out of Jaemin, but Xiaojun doesn’t know if he likes it. “Oh?” he leans in, voice dropping into this crooning thing he does in front of the cameras. “You think so?”
It’s such a stupid question that Xiaojun actually laughs, and not out of nervousness this time.
There’s just no way that someone like Na Jaemin, visual and rapper extraordinaire, who’s been doing this idol schtick since he was 16 — long before Xiaojun even joined SM, doesn’t know the sheer effect he has on people. It’s a trap if he’s ever seen one.
Still, Xiaojun allows himself to look at Jaemin, still clad in designer tweeds without a single strand of hair out of place, and waves his hand at all that. “Are you serious? I mean, have you seen yourself?”
“Oh I have,” Jaemin smirks, an arm reaching up to wrap around Xiaojun’s waist. “But the question is: have you?”
Whatever response Xiaojun had in his tiny lizard brain gets stuck in his throat when Jaemin spins him around, manhandling him into staring at himself in the mirror. His hands scramble to steady himself as Jaemin presses up against his side.
“Do you know how pretty you are, Xiaojun-ah?” The air crackles, and Jaemin whispers into his ear. “So fucking pretty.”
This is dangerous territory. Xiaojun almost stops breathing.
“Jaemin,” Xiaojun starts, voice low in warning. The name tastes foreign on his tongue — a byproduct of age old rules to keep certain topics out of his mouth when filming. But everything else, the weight of the gaze, the tickle of a breath on his neck, the arm around his waist. Familiar. Far too familiar. “Don’t do this here.”
“Where else would you rather this happen, hmm?” Jaemin noses up his neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “In abandoned parking lots? Or in dorms where one of us has no business being in? You pick.”
His breathing has gone shallow, and Xiaojun bites back the whine threatening to spill out of his lips. Jaemin must’ve noticed because he tightens his grip on his waist, chuckling, “You seemed to really enjoy keeping quiet for me last time, too. Renjun didn’t even notice a thing.”
Oh God. Xiaojun watches himself bloom red from the neck up because as far as he remembers, Renjun definitely noticed, if the angry knocks on the wall that night were anything to go by.
He’s not exactly quiet in bed, especially when someone knows precisely how to play him right. And Jaemin, fuck. Jaemin has perfect pitch.
Xiaojun burns, positively aches. But right before the last vestiges of control slips away from him, the arm around his waist loosens the slightest bit, before disappearing completely.
Jaemin steps back, face smug as he raises his hands up to his chest like some sort of surrender. I plead not guilty, your honor.
He didn’t even give him a proper kiss. The motherfucker.
A sardonic laugh escapes Xiaojun, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know?”
Jaemin just cocks his head to the side, “You’ll thank me.”
There’s a confused ‘what?’ halfway out of Xiaojun’s lips when the door bursts open, revealing Lucas — fresh faced and ready to head out, his proverbial doggy tail wagging in excitement.
“Hey, the boys said they wanted to go out for hot pot.”
Xiaojun’s heart is still running a mile a minute, but his brain lags a couple seconds. “Uh...which?”
Which hot pot? Which boys? These are important questions.
“The new one two streets over from home,” Lucas says, switching to Mandarin. “You coming?”
Xiaojun catches Jaemin’s amusement from the mirror, before darting his eyes back to Lucas by the door. “I’m kinda tired,” he says, lips pressing into a tight smile. It's not untrue. “You guys go. I’ll make myself something at home.”
“Alright.” Lucas shrugs, unperturbed. “Just chat Kun-ge if you want take out.”
Xiaojun nods in response, watching Lucas head out the door. But then Lucas stops in his tracks and turns back around slowly, like he’d realized something.
“Do you want hot pot?” Lucas asks, staring straight at Jaemin.
For once Jaemin looks his age, wide-eyed and a little taken aback. Xiaojun suppresses a tiny smile.
“Nah I’m good,” Jaemin says, when he recovers. “Maybe some other time.”
“Okay.” Lucas cracks his megawatt smile, and turns to Xiaojun. “Invite him sometime. I think he’d like the boys.”
Then he waves, and he’s out the door.
Xiaojun holds his breath and waits for the sound of Lucas’s heavy steps to recede. When he finally deems it safe to look at Jaemin again, he finds the younger already looking back.
“What?”
“Your friends are so nice,” Jaemin says. He walks closer, a small pout on his lips. “Haechan never lets me join his hot pot dates with Renjun. He just tells me to find my own boyfriend.”
Xiaojun rolls his eyes, but the effect is dampened by the smile creeping across his face.
“You’re so dramatic,” he says. “If it bothers you so much, you can really come with us next time. Kun-ge’s always looking for more people to feed.”
“Hmm, do you think it’s too late to tell Lucas we’re coming?”
Xiaojun tries to smack him but fails. Jaemin erupts into a fit of giggles.
“C’mon! Don’t be like that,” Xiaojun groans, pulling the younger back to wrap his arms around his neck. “You’re the one who asked me to choose!”
“And you never answered,” Jaemin intones, voice playfully low.
Xiaojun follows Jaemin’s gaze down to his lips, and instead of an answer, a heady rush fills his brain that makes him drop all pretenses, leaning in and capturing Jaemin’s familiar lips against his own.
Between multiple sub-groups, friend circles, and language barriers, Jaemin always felt so far away. They try their best to close the gap in small pockets of time, but there’s nothing truly like performing side by side on the same stage, filming on the same set, and feeling their Venn Diagrams slowly start to converge into one.
Xiaojun never thought this day would come, so he’s giddy with excitement, wrapping his arms tighter around Jaemin’s neck to pull him closer, hoping he can communicate his happiness in the deepening of the kiss.
He doesn’t care if it’s uncharacteristic. Jaemin is soft and beautiful and Xiaojun has wanted him next to him for a very long time.
There’s a breathy smile in there somewhere, stretching across their lips before they finally pull away for air. Jaemin rests his forehead against his, and Xiaojun can’t really see anything beyond his lashes so he laughs, causing Jaemin to snort. And then they’re both losing it, and at the back of his mind Xiaojun thinks the boys back home would absolutely love him, too.
“So how about it, pretty boy?” Jaemin asks. “Made up your mind?”
Xiaojun rolls his eyes, but his smile is soft. “I already cleared up the dorms for you,” he says, taking Jaemin’s hand in his. “My place tonight?”
Jaemin grins, “I thought you’d never ask.”