Chapter Text
There have been various moments in the uncertain journey of your career that you have considered quitting. From actors asking you for foot massages to directors approaching you and suggesting you join their cult, you’re quite certain that if someone were to ask, you could confidently say you’ve seen it all.
But, that was before you met Jeon Jeongguk. and it’s right now, as you stand in the foyer of his shiny, Seoul apartment, you find that you almost wish you had taken that director up on his offer and just accepted the damn leaflet promising peace and tranquillity in exchange for a wad of cash and your soul or whatever.
Instead, you’re here, surrounded by drunk models, idols and who knows what else, staring at Jeongguk as he looks at you with a dopey, drunken smile on his face wearing nothing but a party hat.
One Month Earlier.
These days, it’s not often that the solitude you’ve grown accustomed to is disturbed, especially in your office. The five-floor building in the quiet part of the Gangnam district of Seoul is home to a couple of other businesses besides the quiet PR agency you have spent the last six years of your life in, and by far, it is the one which receives the least visitors.
Except today, that is. Apparently today, you are plucked from your quiet lunchtime bubble to the ruckus of Taehyung marching in, followed by a handsome man wearing a suit too expensive to be entering the dusty confines of your office. You would almost feel the need to stand up if your feet weren’t aching from your new heels - bought with the remnants of your paycheck two days ago. You don’t mind living on ramen for the rest of the week, over the past few months you’ve gotten used to it anyway.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of being disturbed on my lunch break?” You ask, eyes barely flitting over to the older man behind your dashing assistant. He isn’t half bad himself, you admit, your hands itching to brush the pastry crumbs off your pencil skirt before you think better of it.
Taehyung smiles that dead-eyed smile you’ve gotten to know over the last four years of him working for you. This smile is reserved for when he’s especially pissed off about something.
“Mr Kim insisted on meeting with you,” Taehyung gripes, his lip curling just a little, “Apparently waiting ten more minutes wasn’t sufficient,”
“The creaking of those god-awful leather chairs was unbearable I couldn’t take it any longer,” The older man finally speaks, manoeuvring his way past Taehyung to thrust his hand towards you in form of greeting, leaving you perplexed furthermore when you see the heavy gold Rolex on his wrist, “Kim Seokjin, pleased to make your acquaintance. I appreciate this isn’t exactly the most professional way to set up a meeting with you,”
The fact anyone would be this eager to set up a meeting with you anyway is beyond you; the last time you had a high profile client was over two years ago, and since that calamity of errors, the pool has dwindled down to a reality TV star held by Hoseok in the office next door, and a questionably talented rapper who goes by the name PD Funky. Work has certainly been slow over the last few months, which is why you look at Seokjin with a frown he clearly doesn’t expect.
“I do hope we can have a frank discussion about a potential client. My client, in fact,”
Once more, you glance down at the Rolex on his wrist, unsure of his motives. What is a guy with a watch work thirty big ones doing in your damp, dark office?
“Taehyung, please fetch Mr Kim some coffee,” Taehyung reluctantly does as you ask with a glare fired at the older man’s head of shiny hair, closing the door behind him as you gesture for Seokjin to take the seat across from you, “So, you have a client?”
Seokjin, for the first time since he walked in, actually looks a little uneasy, his smile sheepish as he nods once, “My client is, well, he is well-established within the industry,”
“So why would he need a new publicist?” Your suspicion only increases, well aware of the fact that your business is hardly doing well in your current circumstances.
Seokjin adjusts his watch, avoiding your eye-line, “It seems the last publicist and my client had some…disagreements. They worked on different frequencies, shall we say?”
“The client is difficult, is that what you’re saying?”
“Well,” Seokjin laughs, flustered and coming off a little desperate as he fumbles for the right words to describe what is obviously a diva, “he is rather stubborn. But he is extremely talented. He just needs the right person to whip him into shape,”
The longer Mr Kim beats around the bush, the more you wish he would simply tell you who he represents. After all, it’s not as if you’ve always struggled to find clients. Up until a few years ago, you were a pretty well-known publicist in the industry, having managed to wipe clean the images of more than a few bad boys. But, since the incident in question, you’ve not exactly found it easy to find new clients.
“Who is it?” You prompt, “Your client,”
Seokjin nibbles on his lower lip for a moment, almost hesitant to reveal the actor’s name. And once he does, it makes it very clear why he has spent the last ten minutes tip toeing.
“It’s Jeon Jeongguk,”
The name certainly isn’t unknown to you, in fact it’s quite the opposite. Jeon Jeongguk has been hitting headlines lately, frequenting the gossip columns on various celebrity news sites thanks to his debauched and promiscuous behaviour. In your industry, actors like Jeon are a dime a dozen, but from the look on Seokjin’s face, it would seem that Jeon is proving to be especially difficult, seeing as his search for a new publicist has led him to your door.
“Jeon is one of the most sought after actors in the business right now, why haven’t you managed to find him a publicist before now?”
Perhaps you’re selling yourself short, but you’re not dim-witted. For a few years, you were booking a few big names, managing a couple of actors yourself while Hoseok took on the rest, and things were running steadily. But after the incident which rocked your world and crushed most of your faith in your abilities, you’ve been left on the side-lines, staying away from the fast-paced rollercoaster of a job you had come to know and love and settling, taking on fewer clients and playing it safe. Now, you’re paying the price with a roster of clients gathering dust and a reputation left forgotten in the corner.
When Seokjin speaks up, you’re almost preparing for what he might say. There are only a few reasons why one might remember your past working relationships, and you have a feeling it’s not your knack for organisation that has gotten you noticed where the man before you is concerned.
“I have to confess, I hadn’t heard your name in a long time before I came across your card,” Seokjin admits, almost having the grace to look sheepish as he speaks, “I think the last time you worked with anyone major was around two years ago,”
He says it simply as if the reminder doesn’t have your chest clenching, that familiar breathless ache that you know so well whenever anyone mentions the incident that almost killed all your spirit for your job, and anything else.
“Lee Donghun, I believe it was. Your last client before you seemed to fall off the face of the planet,” The man laughs as if he is not recalling the worst moment of your life, your hands clenched tight beneath your desk, out of view, “I so admired your work with him, you managed to take him from the stage to the Oscars in little over three years. It’s very impressive, I can’t deny it,”
“So, what exactly would you need from me?” You ask, if only to distract him and move things along so you can breathe properly again, “I can’t imagine working with Jeon would be plain sailing, given the stories I’ve read about him lately,”
For the first time since he walked in, Seokjin actually looks defeated, withdrawn as if he has been exhausted and drained by the notoriety of the young actor. As far as you know, Jeon Jeongguk has only been in the business for five years or so, but already he has managed to create quite a name for himself. His breakout role in the teen flick Sarang managed to shoot him to stardom almost overnight. Now, three years later, he seems intent on ruining the good thing he has going on.
“Jeonggukie…” Seokjin sighs, almost affectionately, “He isn’t what he seems. The magazines and the tabloids demonise him, but he is just…struggling to handle fame,” he glances over at you, “His coping mechanisms are quite…counterintuitive,”
Drinking, drugs and women seem to be the typical coping mechanisms for actors, you think, but instead you nod, “I sense an eagerness to change his image, is there anything in particular driving this?”
You already know the answer before Seokjin says it, but you listen anyway, “He has a film role coming up, something serious - a war epic that could really send his career in a new direction instead of the constant romantic comedies he has been reading lines for,” he leans forward in his seat, eyes passionate as he continues, “Jeongguk can do this. He has talent, and I can’t sit back and watch him squander it. He just needs structure and someone who won’t take shit from him, and I feel like that’s you,”
On one hand, you can feel yourself lit up from within at Seokjin’s assessment of you. This is exactly the kind of client you would need to prove yourself again, to distract people from the rumours that have followed you for years - however true those rumours might be. More than anything, you want to love your job again, to get up and feel as if you have a real purpose in changing someone’s life for the better and helping them excel in their craft.
But, you’re terrified. Thinking of your past, memories of those harrowing last weeks working with Donghun that seemed to drain the life right out of your body. It’s the reminder of him that has you steeling your spine, assured in the knowledge that you will never again make the same mistake.
So, with a handshake, you agree to an informal meeting with Seokjin and Jeongguk, and you prepare yourself for battle. Because if one thing is certain, you have a feeling Jeon Jeongguk isn’t gonna make your job easy.
——
Jeongguk feels like he’s in the middle of being scolded by his parents from the way Seokjin and the strikingly serious looking woman next to him are looking at him. Jin is doing his best to look stern and in-control, though Jeongguk almost wants to laugh when he realises this is the longest his manager has gone without saying something dumb to make himself laugh.
Damn, Jeongguk thinks, this seems serious and I want no part in it.
“Kook, can you at least sit up straight when you have company,”
The younger man huffs out a laugh, his eyes flicking towards you once more before the inquisitive yet admonishing look in your eye has him looking away, sitting up from where he had been slouching into his sofa. The sofa he spent a pretty penny on to do just that.
“Sure, dad,” Jeongguk’s brow lifts slightly on one side, the side with his new piercing, one that has caused some uproar if those damn magazines are any indication. Not that Jeongguk cares these days, those journalists are nothing but vultures. He looks between the two people before him once again, trying and failing to avoid glancing down at your bare legs.
What? They’re nice legs.
“Anything else you would like me to do? Tidy my room, put away my toys, perhaps?”
You’re still watching him, a measured amount of exhaustion and something else in your gaze. Jeongguk doesn’t like it, the way you look at him. It’s different to the way he has gotten used to being perceived, and if he can’t make a pretty woman blush at him, he feels off-kilter. But, you don’t seem like the kind of girl who blushes easily, and there’s an alarming thought in his mind that begs him to find out what does make your cheeks pink.
“Are you listening?” Seokjin asks, his voice growing more and more pissed off as time passes. Jeongguk would feel bad if he didn’t pay the guy.
He gives the older man a half-hearted salute, knowing it’ll only annoy him further. He has gotten used to Jin being more of a big brother than a manager, so the serious nature of the meeting that dragged Jeongguk out of bed at eight AM is intriguing to say the least.
“All yours, boss. What exactly did you need me for?”
Seokjin turns to look at you, waving a hand through the air that separates Jeongguk from you. There’s little reaction from your side, so Jeongguk decides to be polite, offering his hand as Jin introduces you.
“This is Y/N, your new publicist,”
He wants to laugh, or at least smile, but he does his best to refrain. How many times has Jeongguk heard those words in the last few months? Only what feels like a dozen. Publicists coming in and out of his life faster than the girls he dates. “Dates” is one way of putting it, anyway.
“Ah, I see,” He gives you his full attention now, letting his eyes linger on the fullness of your lips, the intensity of your eyes. You seem to mean business, and Jeongguk can only think that this is going to be fun, a challenge compared to the rest. He waits for you to accept his hand, the warmth of your small palm swallowed in his grip as he continues speaking, “So I take it you’ll be whipping me into shape,”
He lets his voice dip into that low tone he saves for seduction, trying to get some reaction out of you, if only for his own entertainment. Jeongguk enjoys flustering even the most sensible of women, but you are something else entirely. The way you release his hand, arms crossing over your chest as you sit back a little in your seat, your eyes fixed on Jeongguk. He thinks he sees your lips twitch, a little uptick in your smile, though he knows you’re not laughing with him. From the distaste in your gaze and the way you don’t reply immediately, Jeongguk’s stomach sours when he realises you’re laughing at him.
When you do finally speak, Jeongguk is caught off guard by how young you sound, the soft edges around the firmness of your voice has him looking at you a little more, noticing the stuff he had ignored, the thickness of your eyelashes, the way you haven’t backed down from his gaze since he looked at you, mostly that you seem to be around his age.
“Don’t worry, Mr Jeon. Whipping isn’t usually in my repertoire,”
“That’s a shame,”
“Jeongguk,” Seokjin is almost beet red, but all Jeongguk can do is look at you, waiting to see if that little twitch at the corner of your lips appears again. You turn to face his manager before Jeongguk can see, and so he has no other choice but to pay attention to the older man, “Can we please stay on track, here? You have weeks before filming starts and the director is already pissed,”
Jeongguk can’t say he does these things on purpose, sleeping around and getting into trouble, but he doesn’t exactly do enough to stop it either. Sure, he should be more concerned with his career, but after the year he has had, Jeongguk feels like leaning into his destructive side a little more, starting with making it his mission to see how long it takes the new publicist to quit.
———
The first time you are tasked with meeting Jeongguk again is roughly a week later, when you are determined to begin the real work of doing anything you can to clean up the sordid reputation painted in the various news articles you spent the day reading in preparation. As Seokjin had stressed, you need to change the narrative around Jeongguk’s love life and his public persona in general before the director for his next move gets antsy and removes him from the script completely.
And you know that can happen, after all, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. And a candidate like Jeongguk is just the type of actor it would happen to. Someone as frustrating and annoying as him almost deserves it, but you squash that thought the moment it comes into your head, almost feeling guilty.
He enters the conference room at the Hit Entertainment building with a swagger in his step you’re not phased by. Most young actors have some sense of superiority, especially when they are as famous as Jeongguk is, so you don’t do anything other than smile and attempt to get through this meeting without causing a fuss. You’re expecting some push back, but should all things go to plan, Jeongguk should be back in the media’s good graces by the end of the month.
“Mr Jeon,” You force a smile, gesturing to the seat on the other side of the large, mahogany desk, “thank you for meeting with me,”
“Seokjin threatened me with physical violence, so I couldn’t exactly say no,” He glances at his phone, then at you, noting the unimpressed look on your face before he sits up in his chair with all the grace of a drunken sloth, “I mean, it’s my pleasure,”
You busy your hands shuffling the papers, namely a few NDA’s you’ve got prepped for the women you will be meeting later today, all written up with Jeongguk’s interests at heart. Though, your patience wears thin as he scrolls through his phone, so you can’t exactly say you care for his best interests in this present moment.
No, Y/N. Be professional, ignore this giant-headed man baby and focus on your job.
“Either way, I’m glad we can get started,” Your eyes slide over to the side of the desk once more, finding Jeongguk laughing quietly to himself, ignoring you completely. You try to ground yourself, reigning in your temper, but it all goes flying out the window when he begins to take a call in the middle of your meeting.
Jeongguk has the phone halfway to his face when you reach over, slapping it out of his hand and watching as it hits the padded carpet. His face is a picture, your body half slung over the table as you lock eyes, the two of you silently simmering with a rage that has developed from the shared annoyance you have for each other.
“That’s my phone,”
“Excellent observation,” You stand, tugging on your blazer and walking over to pick up his phone. You sit back down opposite Jeongguk, ignoring the doe-eyed look of utter indignation on his face, sliding his cell into your purse, “You can have this back once we’re done,”
“What are you, my elementary school teacher?”
“Oh you went to school?” You glance down at the documents in your hand, “Could’ve fooled me,”
For the next twenty minutes, you and Jeongguk sit in near silence, only speaking when you ask him for an answer on the contract you have. For all intents and purposes, Seokjin had told you to do whatever it takes to fix Jeongguk, or at least his reputation, and so you have tried to be as ethical as possible. You’ve never been the person to use bribes to get your own way, and you’re terrible at blackmail, so you have found a small list of requests to give to the man before you in order to turn his career back on the right track.
Jeongguk seems amenable for most of the requirements, agreeing to cut back on drinking, parties and recreational drugs. It’s when you get to article number three that he speaks up, his voice several pitches higher when he leans forward in his seat.
“I have to do what!?”
Patiently, you read the line again, ignoring the way his face turns a faint shade of red, “You are to take part in several scheduled, pre-planned dates with women of my choosing. This is to ensure you do not go off the rails, or,” you glance up at him, his eyes bugging out, “get caught in another sex party scandal,”
He flops back in his seat running a hand through his hair. His brows are drawn together, dark and strong over his brown eyes, and you are almost taken aback to see what a difference pushing his hair off his forehead can do. Before you can dwell on his fortunate genetics, Jeongguk slaps his hand on the table, shaking his head.
“No, I’m not doing that. You can’t choose who I sleep with!”
Your voice is impassive, cool, “Who said anything about you sleeping with them?”
His mouth hangs open for several moments, “Are you saying I can’t have sex with these girls?”
“No, Mr Jeon,” You say, “These dates are strictly for show. If you were to like one of the girls enough, we could discuss lengthening the arrangement to be more of a long term thing, but this is all to clean up your public image. How are we supposed to do that if you’re caught stumbling out of clubs with five girls wrapped around you?”
He looks around, his eyes even wider now under his mane of dark, wavy hair. You can’t say you’re surprised by his reaction given the free reign Jeongguk has been given over the past year or so. Previously, his reputation was as good as any other actor, but now he clearly needs some kind of structure in place. Even if it is only temporary.
“You can’t do this,” He says, his eyes on you, frosty in their dark glare.
A slight tickle at the corner of your lip forces you to bite your lower lip, holding back a smile at how wrong he is. But, to remain professional and to move the meeting along, you flip through the papers you brought in anticipation for this very moment.
“Mr Jeon,” You say once you find it, “I’m afraid I can. You see, you signed a contract during our first meeting which has put me in charge of your public persona. So, as your love life effects that, I’m afraid I can do this,”
His eyes narrow on the paper in your hand, holding your glare as he takes it from you, scanning it quickly while his expression shifts from suspicion to disbelief and finally to horror.
“You…”
You fix a bright smile on your face, muscles straining with the effort the longer Jeongguk shoots daggers your way, “As you can see, it’s all in the contract,” you snatch it from him, putting it with the rest, “It may seem extreme, but you’re not the first lothario I’ve had to put the reigns on,”
The rest of the meeting continues in a frosty silence, Jeongguk only speaking when absolutely necessary, and only grunting in response most of the time. Once you have filled Jeongguk in on his schedule, including the numerous jobs he already has planned, you’re forced to look up at his frown once more, his dark brows drawn together over his eyes. You blink a couple times, unaccustomed to holding his stare for so long, your eyes falling back to the papers on the table.
“I think we’re done here,” You say, standing and smoothing out the wrinkles on your skirt. You look up just in time to see Jeongguk’s eyes snap from your thighs to your face, and you fight an unwelcome warmth that gathers on your neck and cheeks, “You have the restaurant and time written down, right?”
His voice is deep, almost rough when he speaks, a flicker of what seems to be confusion rattling his features before he sets his face back into the moody glare you’ve grown used to, “Yes, I have it,”
“Good,”
“Great,”
You grit your teeth, fighting to maintain your pleasant expression, “Fantastic. I will keep in touch. Try to put on enough of a show so that I can write a good statement. Maybe we can even get a few weeks out of this date if we’re lucky,”
Jeongguk stands, pushing up the sleeves of his black shirt. You ignore the unexpected dip in your stomach when you notice the flash of black ink on his forearm, focusing on his dangerous smirk instead.
“Oh, don’t worry, Y/N,” He says, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “I’ll put on a show for you,”
There’s something in his words that has you tensing, a flare of panic working it’s way up your midsection as it battles with annoyance and a slick, hot bubble of another feeling entirely that rages in your chest. With a nod, Jeongguk walks out of the room, leaving your shoulders sagging and the smile dropping from your face.
This is not gonna go well.
——
You can say with absolute certainty that you are going to murder Jeon Jeongguk.
It’s been a month since you started working with the irritating actor, and already you can feel yourself edging closer and closer to insanity. Soon enough, you will be rocking in the corner of your room laughing to yourself if you can’t find a way to make the public love him even while you hate him.
The first fake date you had arranged for Jeongguk crashed and burned the moment he got himself caught making out with a waitress in the alley next to the expensive restaurant where you booked the reservation. Safe to say the bubble-gum popstar waiting at the table for him had very little qualms about blocking your number and having her agent send you a painfully polite email indicating she had no intention of working with you or Jeongguk.
The second and third dates? Jeongguk just decided not to turn up for them, instead he chose to visit an arcade.
Your hand shakes as you move your mouse, hovering over the next email from the third girl you had attempted to set Jeongguk up with. You don’t even want to know what her agent has said, you would rather just cut the cord to your computer and escape to a quiet cabin in the middle of nowhere.
“What has that keyboard ever done to you?” A familiar voice coming from the doorway has you lifting your head, a familiar smile soothing your stress instantly as you grin at your long-time friend and co-worker.
“Do you think I should quit and escape to the Bahamas? Honest question,”
Hoseok laughs, stepping into your office and sliding the chair out before dropping into it with a sigh, “I might come with you. Kim Nari just started dating Lee Chul,”
You wince, knowing what that means for the next month or so of Hoseok’s job as the reality star’s publicist, “I thought she was dating Jung Kang-dae?”
“She was,” Hoseok smiles, but it’s strained as his brows rise as he speaks, “a week ago,”
You shoot him a sympathetic smile, shaking your head at the email that glares at you from your inbox. Clicking once, you open it as it confirms the exact opposite of what you were expecting - the actress, it turns out, couldn’t make it to the agreed upon date either. Jeongguk didn’t stand her up after all.
This has bought you some time. If you can just get Jeongguk on the date and somehow convince him to go along with your plan for the sake of his career, maybe you can finally get this job on the right track instead of the passive aggressive approach the two of you have taken the past month.
With a sigh of relief and a grin from Hoseok, you decide to form a full proof plan to make sure your frustrating client makes it to that date whether he wants to or not.
—–
The longer the car ride goes on, the more Jeongguk feels like he is being kidnapped.
Instead of heading towards the studio where Jeongguk had been told he has a meeting with the writer regarding his lines for the upcoming movie, the car steadily treads through the middle of the city, towards the expensive districts where all the best bars and restaurants reside.
He glances at Seokjin seated beside him, his face calm in a relaxed, cool smile. Jeongguk can feel the thread of suspicion working its way through his brain, slowed only by the aftereffects of the few joints he shared with a few models the night before. He grins at the memory - what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Jeongguk isn’t about to let his life be controlled by a small, angry publicist, that’s for sure.
“Where are we going?” Jeongguk asks, his brows furrowed as he chances a glance at the driver up front, his bodyguard seated in the passenger seat, “This isn’t the way to the studio,”
“We just have a stop to make before there,” Jin grins, his flashy white-toothed smile he saves for the press. Jeongguk knows something isn’t right.
It’s only when the car stops outside of the restaurant where Jeongguk had his first fake date that it dawns on him. His mouth falls open as his bodyguard steps out, opening the car door for him and offering him an apologetic smile.
“Traitor,” Jeongguk hisses, squinting against the few paparazzi that already litter the sidewalk.
His bodyguard, Namjoon, winces, “I’m sorry, sir. Miss Y/N is very determined,”
Jeongguk does his best to smile for the paparazzi, knowing Seokjin is practically behind him with a gun at his back. He feels as if he is walking the plank, forced to endure an hour, or possibly more, of painfully boring conversation with a pretty woman he has no interest in dating. His eyes flick over to the doors of the restaurant, his body following once he catches sight of you waiting for him by the maitre d, hands crossed over the front of your white blazer. There’s a flare of triumph in your gaze, a polite smile spreading over your features, and it has Jeongguk’s stomach burning.
“Mr Jeon, glad you could make it,”
“What are you doing here?” He asks, unsure why you would be here at the restaurant, unless he has got it wrong. Perhaps this isn’t one of your dumb fake date ideas after all.
You don’t answer, leading the way so that Jeongguk has no choice but to follow behind you like a giant, black Labrador - tail tucked between his legs now that he has been fooled by not only you, but also his manager and bodyguard.
The two of you stop at a table where a pretty young woman sits, her dark hair piled high on her head, sickly sweet smile aimed right at you before she glances towards Jeongguk.
“Take a seat, Mr Jeon,”
He doesn’t, instead focusing on something else entirely, like the way you say his name, “Do you have to call me that?”
Eyes flashing with annoyance, you grit your jaw, and Jeongguk watches the muscle tense above your long, slender neck, “There are many things I would like to call you, and none of them are appropriate for the current company. Sit,”
He sinks into his seat, royally pissed off at the fact he got caught out so easily. He attempts to appear relaxed, even as he simmers with frustration at the fact you have got him here, you successfully got him to attend another one of these stupid, pointless dates.
The evening is stale, the only voices being that of yours and the girl in the seat across from Jeongguk who, for some unknown reason, agreed to this charade. His name is mentioned a few times, and when asked questions he can only give the briefest of answers, unsure why he hasn’t just walked out by now.
Who would stop him? He pays everyone he knows. But something keeps him rooted in his seat, almost reluctantly impressed with the way you seem to match him at every turn, taking control of the situation with a confidence he hasn’t seen in any other publicist that has worked for him.
Still, be that as it may, he continues to glare in your direction whenever the other girl is distracted. He doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to put on a mask in front of the public just for the sake of them liking him. Why can’t he let loose? He isn’t hurting anyone.
A quiet forgotten voice in the back of his mind speaks up, and he shoves it right back down, preferring not to deal with his issues and instead, choosing to fill his life with parties, girls and booze. What else would a man of his age be doing if he had access to the money Jeongguk does? But still, even as the night draws to a close, Jeongguk can feel a whisper of disappointment in his chest. As if he can feel what everyone who loves him must feel.
He knocks back the glass of wine on the table, startling you and the actress who’s name he hasn’t bothered to learn yet. He has a feeling you will give him no other choice but to remember it eventually.
The meal ends with the actress smiling at him, a polite grin that holds no attraction and no romantic intent. No doubt during his mental mumblings, you have managed to create some deal with the woman regarding the PR relationship you so desperately want him to take part in.
“Are you going to sit there and sulk like a little kid?”
Your voice has his eyes snapping to your own as you look at him with a blank expression, though he doesn’t miss the slight tiredness around your eyes. He huffs, knowing full well he is acting like a brat right now, but unable to quit it.
“Oh, you’re not speaking?” You say, raising one brow before you lean back in your seat, taking your cup of what Jeongguk assumes is coffee and bringing it to your plump lips, “Finally, some quiet,”
“I haven’t spoken during this whole damn meal,” Jeongguk grunts.
You side eye him, placing the cup back down on the China dish, “I’m well aware. You scowled through the whole thing like a moody teenager,”
Jeongguk scoffs, “Not all of us are uptight,”
He can’t help but glance back at your face then, looking for any reaction. You only narrow your eyes at him, facing him fully so Jeongguk can take in the softness of your features, though your eyes remind him of a dragon; fierce and fiery.
“I am only doing all of this so you don’t get kicked off the movie, Jeongguk,”
It’s the first time you’ve said his name, and it seems to surprise you both. Jeongguk’s scowl softens for just a second before he looks away, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. All you did was say his name, the fuck is wrong with him?
“Yeah, well I didn’t hire you,” He says, “I don’t need your help,”
“So you don’t care that the public think you’re a mess?” Your voice is hard, unyielding as you speak, and Jeongguk almost blanches at the bluntness of what you’re saying, “That you deserve to quit acting and go back from where you came? That you’re a sloppy, drunk playboy with no real friends?”
“Stop talking,” He grits, voice deathly cool. That familiar, cold, hollow feeling returns to his chest.
You do, but only for a second, much to Jeongguk’s frustration, “I’m only telling you what I see written about you. If you love acting as much as Seokjin says you do, then you do need my help. You’re not going to fix this on your own, so deal with it and stop being a baby,”
The two of you are breathing hard, Jeongguk’s eyes locked on yours. When you look away first, he can’t even muster up the glow of victory in his chest. He stands quickly, so fast the chair almost flips, and storms out of the restaurant. You don’t follow him, and he’s thankful for it.
As far as he is concerned, that is the last time he is going to see your face.
——-
The moment Seokjin called you at 3AM, you knew Jeongguk had done something. From what you’ve learned about the older man, Jeon Jeongguk lives to raise his blood pressure and make his job harder.
You’re not going to judge Seokjin for letting Jeongguk’s antics get to him, but you’re not one to take things lying down. Jeongguk isn’t the first problematic client you’ve had, and if things go well for you, he won’t be the last. This is what you were made to do, and nobody is going to make you feel inadequate.
When you leave your apartment building to find a black Audi waiting for you, a familiar, broad figure waiting at you from inside. Seokjin sighs with relief when you slip into the passenger seat.
“I am so sorry for this, Y/N. I know this isn’t what you get paid for,” He looks stressed, eyes wide and glassy likely from lack of sleep. It’s the middle of the night, and he was no doubt sleeping, as were you, “You’re the only person I could think of. Probably the only person who can actually get through to Jeongguk,”
The worried look on Seokjin’s face has you frowning, “Seokjin, what’s happened? You didn’t really say much on the phone,”
The older man shakes his head, his eyes heavy with stress and utter exhaustion.
“I’ll explain on the way,” He says, “but I don’t think I can do much to prepare you,”
——-
Really, you didn’t have to prepare yourself at all before setting foot in Jeongguk’s apartment. Though Seokjin had explained, you stand in the doorway now, surveying the area while the only thought that you can conjure is how utterly predictable Jeon Jeongguk is.
Model’s gyrate topless on the coffee table, empty glasses and beer bottles at their feet, clinking with their movements as they balance precariously on the chic, expensive-looking surface. There’s a white powder coating the shiny surfaces in Jeongguk’s kitchen, a group of people filling the space as they sip at drinks and gesticulate animatedly, speaking over the thumping base of the music. Seokjin stands wearily beside you, his face a look of abject horror as if he hadn’t expected it to be this bad.
You? You’re pretty calm all things considered. After your outburst after the fake date, you were anticipating some childish retaliation from the frustrating actor, and this isn’t the first time you’ve had to clean out staggering strippers and models from a superstar’s apartment.
When the star in question appears, for the first time since you met him, you’re wholly unprepared for what you see, though you manage to school your features into a neutral expression before Jeongguk’s eyes find you, not that he would have even noticed your surprise at seeing him saunter around the room naked save for the shiny party hat that shields his trophy from the roaming eyes of the party.
His toned, tanned body stands out amongst the expanse of white in the apartment, his bare feet slapping on the marble floor when he approaches, pupils so dilated you can barely see the deep chestnut of his eyes.
“Hey! Welcome to the party,” He slurs a little, but for the most part remains steady on his feet as he takes you in, his gaze roaming over you with an interest that has you blinking in surprise.
“What the hell is all this!?” Seokjin screeches, almost pulling his hair out as he spots a cell phone being lifted by one of the girls behind Jeongguk, no doubt snapping a photo of his bare ass for the whole world to see.
As Seokjin marches over in an attempt to quell the chaos, Jeongguk stares at you, looking you over in his inebriated state as if he’s seeing you for the first time, his tongue dragging over his lower lip while his gaze pauses on several spots before he makes it to your eyes once more. When he parts his lips to speak, you’re about to stop him when two guys rush by, sliding by on rollerblades and jostling Jeongguk.
The scene plays out in slow motion as Jeongguk’s hand slips on its way to catch him from falling against the counter, his body descending, head colliding with the edge of the counter while your blood runs cold in shock. There’s already blood falling from the wound on his eyebrow when you inhale deeply, eyes flying around the room, scanning the partygoers that seem to almost be too wasted to even care that their host has injured themselves.
“EVERYONE, GET THE FUCK OUT. NOW,”
Your voice echoes off the sleek furnishings in the apartment, silence following save for the music that is swiftly turned off once the seriousness of the situation descends on the crowd.
Seokjin helps usher out the people while you crouch beside Jeongguk, his head lifting just a little as if he is about to get up before you place a hand on his shoulder. He listens to you, for possibly the first time ever, laying back while you grab a towel from the counter. Placing it on his wound, you grab his arm, helping him to his feet.
“Seokjin, call a doctor and get him to come to the room. We don’t need any more press on his ass than we already have,”
He nods, grabbing the last few stragglers and dragging them out of the apartment, no doubt prepping NDA’s for them all to sign, though you’re sure there’s already a shit storm heading your way regardless. Jeongguk is quiet as you usher him to the bathroom, ignoring his nakedness and grabbing the first thing you find in the bathroom to cover him, which happens to be a robe. He slips it on, a little awkwardly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub while you search the cupboards for a first aid kit.
“Playing nurse as well as babysitter? Aren’t I a lucky guy,” His voice is clear, if a little unnerved, the tone of dislike still running thick through his words even as you try to help the ungrateful brat.
You find the first aid box, unclipping it and taking out some gauze and antiseptic. Once you turn back to him, he’s still watching you, as if waiting for your equally snarky response to his jibe, but you’re not gonna indulge him this time.
He’s watching you, blown out eyes still narrowed despite the effects of whatever drug his taken, his demeanour lucid enough for him to remember he doesn’t like you. Either way, you don’t care. You don’t need him to like you at all as long as he shuts up and sits still.
“Head back, please,”
He doesn’t oblige, and whether you’re pissed at him or just unexpectedly terrified by what you’ve just witnessed, you find yourself clutching his hair, tugging until his face is tilted up towards you. You’re not that tall, Jeongguk is still a pretty imposing figure even seated on the bath’s edge, bur he has to crane his head slightly to give you a good luck at the gash on his eyebrow. It’s not too bad, thankfully, but it’s bleeding a lot, the blood running down Jeongguk’s face and dropping from his jaw onto the clean, white robe. The sudden darkness of his eyes has your fingers slipping from his soft hair, your hands shaking a little.
He doesn’t move his head away, despite you preparing for it, instead opting for studying you with his dark, naked gaze. You’ve been around people on something before - of course you have, you work in show business - so you’re not that surprised to find Jeongguk hiding absolutely nothing in the way he looks at you. You can see it in his eyes that he is pissed off, though he allows you to help him.
Dabbing at the wound, you pause as Jeongguk flinches, his brows drawing together as he sucks in a breath through his teeth. You’ve almost cleaned up the blood when he finally speaks.
“What are you doing here?”
“Seokjin told me,”
He scoffs at this, “Of course he did,”
A few moments go by before either of you speak, the silence of the bathroom feeling oddly intimate, and you find yourself avoiding Jeongguk’s study of you, his eyes watching you closely.
“You seem like you’ve done this before,” He says, “Do you patch up all your clients or am I special?”
Your eyes flick to his for a second, and you almost think he’s trying to joke with you, “My dad got into a few…accidents. I used to clean him up when he did,”
“Accidents?”
Jeongguk seems interested, his face remaining upturned towards you even as you get rid of the used gauze and check the wound. You’re not sure why you feel okay talking to Jeongguk about this; maybe you’re taking advantage of the fact he might not remember any of it; maybe you want him to take something away from your father’s troubled final chapter of his life.
Either way, you answer.
“He was an alcoholic,” You explain, clearing your throat against the lump that forms when you remember how much the man changed once your mother passed away, “He was never very steady on his feet once he got into one of his bad binges. He never let me take him to the hospital, so…”
You don’t need to finish the sentence, but Jeongguk fills in the blanks, his brows drawn together over those dark, searching eyes of his.
“It was just you?”
You nod, swallowing against the familiar heaviness in your chest, “Yeah. My mom passed away when I was ten. It was just me and my dad,”
Jeongguk nods, and it seems as if he has sobered a little, maybe the pain of his injury has brought him out of his haze, his face twitching when you begin to apply the antiseptic.
“You’ll need stitches,” You begin, happy to move on from such melancholic topics of conversation, “the doctor will be here soon so- “
“You’re a good daughter,” Jeongguk suddenly says, fixing you with that arresting look once more as if he can see right through you. Though something clouds his gaze as he speaks, a sadness in the background, “I’m sure your dad is proud of you,”
It’s oddly sweet and wholly unexpected, and you aren’t really sure what to say, but you cannot help yourself from needing to know what is underneath the façade Jeongguk is putting on. You see it now in the way he drifts off, looking at the wall behind you until you move without thinking, touching his chin and urging him to look at you once more.
“There’s something you haven’t told us, Jeongguk,” There has to be. How can someone go from being the nation’s golden boy to a train wreck in such a short space of time? “What is -“
“We’re here!” Seokjin barges into the bathroom and your hand falls from Jeongguk’s chin, feet moving you back a step as if you were doing something wrong. Jeongguk is still watching you even as the doctor takes your place, but his gaze shutters closed now it’s no longer the two of you.
Feeling awkward and strangely exposed, you excuse yourself, ignoring the sensation on the back of your neck that tells you Jeongguk is watching the whole time.
———
Your small car isn’t nearly big enough to accommodate Jeongguk, you are aware of this long before he walks out of the building where he spent the last three hours doing a Calvin Klein shoot. And no, you absolutely did not come out here early to escape the view of Jeongguk in nothing but his underwear. However distracting the view might’ve been.
It’s not like you hadn’t anticipated Jeongguk having a good body…of course he does. He’s an actor, and you aren’t blind. Despite your attempts to cleanse your mind of the night in Jeongguk’s apartment, the image has stayed with you of the toned planes of his torso and the strength in his thighs. You’ve seen his arms in the white t-shirts he wears, you’ve noticed the breadth of him, the sheer size when he is standing next to other people. The way Jeongguk look’s under his clothes isn’t the reason you felt as if you had to escape a burning building just now. No, it was something else entirely. Something far more terrifying and unexpected.
Your reaction to him.
The first moments when he stepped into the shooting space, standing in the bright white room in denim jeans, a matching jacket and no shirt, happened almost in slow motion. It was as if your entire body had been set alight all at once, a slow fire building from the tips of your toes and culminating in that tense spot between your thighs.
Of course, you being…you, the first instinct you had was to blame it on the fact it has been almost half a lifetime since you got laid. And that is where your reasoning ended, because of course you’re a little frustrated! That’s exactly it, your body has simply had a natural, biological reaction to a good looking male body.
This is where Jeongguk finds you, standing beside your car with a faraway look on your face.
“Where’s Jooheon, anyway?” He asks, apparently oblivious to your reaction, and thank god for it.
You push the button on your car keys, pleased that Jeongguk doesn’t ask why you are standing out here in the brisk afternoon air instead of inside the vehicle, “Your usual driver had some car trouble this morning, got into a minor collision with some idiot on the road,” you slip into your seat, hoping that Jeongguk’s aforementioned large frame fits into your car. You watch as he folds his body into the seat, no complaints - for once - his knees bent a little higher than your average passenger, “Seokjin is meeting with some director and I was the only person free to play babysitter,”
He scoffs at this, but doesn’t protest, simply adjusting the seat and moving it back as if he does this all the time. You watch him for a moment too long, his quizzical look prompting you to turn back to the wheel and start the car.
The two of you don’t really speak during the hour long drive back to Seoul, preferring to sit in silence, though it’s not so much silence as it is an unpleasant hum. Your car is almost five years old, and you realise now that this is probably the longest drive you’ve made in it in about two years. You haven’t had to drive out of Seoul in so long, you’re worried the beaten up Honda is gonna struggle.
“Is this noise normal?”
A ridiculous protectiveness over your tiny little car comes out of nowhere, your offended expression meeting Jeongguk’s weary gaze as you turn to him, “Not all of us can drive in limousines. This is the standard sound of a vehicle,”
When your engine light begins to flash, you baulk, glancing at the dash before blinking furiously, unsure how to fathom that this is the moment your car chooses to die on you. When you’re driving a god damn celebrity back into the city.
“Yeah, I know enough to know that isn’t normal,” When you glance over, Jeongguk is almost smiling, just barely. That annoying tilt of his lips that always manages to make your blood boil.
Pulling over onto the side of the road, you glance out of the window, taking in your surroundings. There is nothing except grass for miles, hills in the distance and maybe the outline of a tiny building about a two mile walk down the long road back into the city. You are well and truly screwed.
Huffing, you turn off the ignition, attempting to start it again and groaning when it sputters for several seconds instead of firing to life like it usually does every morning. Your forehead hits the steering wheel just as Jeongguk opens his mouth to speak.
“I don’t think the turning it off and back on again method works for cars,”
“It works for mine,” You say, voice hollow with defeat, “usually,”
“Well,” Jeongguk says, neglecting to finish his sentence in favour of opening the door as if he means to get o - no, he is getting out. You open your mouth to speak just as he slams the door closed.
Scrambling out of the car, you’re met with the sight of Jeongguk holding his phone up, squinting at it before he shakes his head and slides it back into his pocket. When he sees you, he squints against the sun, glancing between you and the car in question.
“Are you coming?”
“Where?” You ask, gesturing around the barren area surrounding you both, “We’re in the middle of nowhere,”
He nods, pursing his lips for a second before continuing, “Which is why I’m asking if you’re coming. We might make it before midnight if we start walking now,”
There are several seconds where you are truly speechless, appalled that Jeongguk is not only suggesting that you abandon your car, but also that you walk back to the city. A trip that takes over an hour by car. God knows how long it would take the two of you to walk. He has to be joking, surely.
“W- “ You begin, shaking your head, “Jeongguk, we cannot walk back to the city. Do you realise how long that would take?”
He frowns as if you’re wasting time, which in his head you likely are, but for good damn reason, “Well I can’t get signal, there is nothing around us, and I’m sure your miniscule car isn’t big enough for us to sleep inside,” he crosses his arms, brow lifted in challenge, and it’s here where you realise he has you trapped, “Do you have a better idea?”
It’s only when you glance over his shoulder that you notice the small building again, though it may just be an old bus stop or just some abandoned shack. It’s worth a try, perhaps it’s a telephone box.
“We could walk to that thing,” You point behind Jeongguk, and he turns, catching sight of the structure in the distance, “Maybe there will be a phone or something,”
“An abandoned hut on an empty road?” Jeongguk scoffs, “I’d rather take my chances in the car,”
You fight against the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that arguing isn’t going to get the two of you home any faster. You stalk back towards the driver’s side of your car, reluctantly pulling out your phone and purse, taking your keys in case there is a chance someone can come out to pick up your car later. After a quick glance at your phone, you confirm Jeongguk’s statement about the lack of signal.
“Let’s just walk, we can figure something out once we know we’re well and truly stranded,”
“We are well and truly stranded, Y/N,”
You ignore him and start walking.
——–
It becomes abundantly clear pretty quickly that your idea to walk to the abandoned shack by the side of the road blows. Jeongguk makes it known with a subtle clearing of his throat, his hands sliding into the pockets of the sweats he changed into after the shoot, a large bag you can only assume to be his gym bag hanging off one shoulder.
“Don’t say a word,”
He shrugs, feigning innocence despite the flat look in his eye, “Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything. You look pretty embarrassed with yourself as it is,” he grins, “that’s enough for me,”
The two of you continue the trek down the road, failing to be found by a passing car or even a tractor from a farm at this point. Your feet throb by the time the sun has completely set, throat dry even as you drain the last of the flat diet Pepsi you’d had stowed away in your bag for god only knows how long. Jeongguk declined your offer, trying repeatedly to find a signal on his phone until he announced that it had died.
Yours is no better, your eyes blurry thanks to the exhaustion running through your body. The time reads seven forty PM in the moments before your battery drains completely, joining Jeongguk’s cell in the land of uselessness, and so you let it fall to the bottom of your handbag, swaying a little as you try to adjust it on your shoulder. You yelp when you stumble, ankle bending in an unnatural angle just before you fall, Jeongguk’s head snapping to see you hit the hard, tarmac of the road, your ankle screaming out in pain.
“What happened?”
You glare at him from your spot on the ground, hating the way the moonlight bounces off his shiny hair. How the fuck does he look this good after walking for almost six hours!? “What does it look like?”
Sliding off your modestly heeled pump, you try to see your ankle as best as you can despite the almost pitch darkness the two of you are now lost in. Feeling with your fingers, you hiss in a breath when you come across a tender spot, the skin swelling a little already.
Walking isn’t gonna be easy, but you’re sure as hell not sleeping out here in the middle of nowhere with a guy you can’t stand. Struggling to your feet, you let your bare foot rest delicately on the rough ground, hobbling forward once before you almost trip, landing right into Jeongguk’s arms.
“You really think you’re gonna be able to walk like that?” He rolls his eyes you think, though it’s hard to see him when he’s backlit by the moon, the milky light shining behind him almost like a heavenly glow. You almost snort at the irony before he lets go of you, positioning himself into a crouch in your path, blocking you. It takes several silent seconds before he glances over his shoulder at you, exasperation evident in his voice, “Well, get on then,”
You fail to move, frowning at his offer and also shaking your head at his foolishness, “Jeongguk, you can’t carry me the whole way home,”
“We don’t have any other options, do we?” He grunts, shifting a little as you realise the position he is in likely isn’t comfortable when he has been walking on his feet for hours on end, “Just stop being a drama queen and get on my back,”
The vindictive, evil little voice in your head tells you to push his annoying ass over onto the floor, but you can’t deny he’s right. The two of you are hardly going to get far when you can barely take a step. Carrying your shoe in one hand, you silently thank yourself for picking out a loose-ish dress this morning. There’s no way in hell you would be able to slot your thighs around Jeongguk’s back in one of your pencil skirts. One hand on his shoulder, you seat yourself on him, breath hitching a little when his hands brush the bare skin of your calves, trailing up to cup the backs of your knees and hoisting you higher on his back just as he stands. He does it with an effortlessness that leaves you feeling foolish for doubting his abilities a moment ago.
The first few minutes are awkward, you’re not really sure what to do with your hands, especially when one of them is clutching a shoe. But, without saying anything, Jeongguk takes it from you and carries it himself, giving you the chance to wrap your arms around his neck, allowing yourself a more secure hold as he continues walking along the road.
It may be an hour or so that passes with you on Jeongguk’s back, his hands growing a little clammy from his hold on the backs of your knees, and you jump a little when he moves them up a little, fingers brushing the skin of your thighs for a moment before he smooths them back down. It’s an odd sensation, one that makes you feel warm all over, just like when you had seen him during the shoot earlier. What makes this whole ordeal tricky for you is the fact you cannot escape the way Jeongguk smells, and while you wish you could make some off hand remark by comparing him to animal waste, that could not be further from the truth. The clean, manly scent that invades your space is highly addictive, you feel as if it should be regulated by the government. His hair is right there, right in your face, and in your dehydrated, exhausted state, you almost want to bury your nose in the thick tresses and inhale.
A literal bucket of water is dropped on you, waking you up from that foolish idea in the form of a sudden, torrential downpour that seems to come out of nowhere. Or maybe you were too tired and distracted to notice. The pain in your ankle is back now, the hot, throbbing agony has you wincing when the cold, icy rain hits your skin.
“Oh, come on!” You yell over the rain, and Jeongguk hunches his shoulders against the freak weather, his body tense as you instinctively curl into him in an attempt to escape the rain.
Your eyes can barely stay open against the flood of water running down your face, your hair plastered to your forehead and neck, Jeongguk much the same as he walks faster, his hand squeezing your knee before leaving it to point into the distance.
Nothing can compare to the sweet relief you feel in that moment. You’re not sure how long the two of you have been walking by this point, but beyond the veil of rain, you can see lights. Windows lit up from the inside, promising warmth and shelter. If you weren’t freezing your ass off, you would probably cry out of sheer joy.
Jeongguk all but jogs with you on his back to get to what is revealed to be a tiny motel nestled on the side of the highway that leads, eventually, to Seoul. Several small cabins lined up, with one slightly larger one situated just beyond the parking lot, the empty parking lot, you note with a mixture of relief and trepidation. This is definitely how horror movies start, but at least there are no other people here, meaning you can start your horror journey after a warm shower at least.
The two of you approach the reception hut, ducking inside where Jeongguk sighs, head raised up in silent prayer to whatever gods led us to this motel. He lets you down, your body sliding down his back until you land gingerly on the carpeted floor. You forgo putting your shoe back on, knowing your swollen foot won’t squeeze into it anymore, and so you hobble to the desk with Jeongguk, tapping the bell a couple times until a sweet-looking old lady walks out from the back room.
“Oh, good evening, kids,” She says, eyes darting between you both, “I see you got caught in the storm. Suppose you will be wanting a room for the night,” her eyes glance over the log book, your chest blooming with the anticipation of a warm bed and a hot shower, though you remember too late to correct her, your mistake lying in the air like a cloud of smoke, “And you’re in luck, I have one room left,”
“One room?” You ask, a bolt of anxiety has your back ramrod straight as you clutch onto the reception desk, “W- “
The woman’s eyes dart between the two of you, suspicion clouding her features, “One room, yes, dear. Are you not happy sleeping in a bed with your husband?”
“Oh, h- “ Jeongguk’s arm is firm on the back of your neck, his wet clothes brushing your arm as he slinks up beside you, a smile fired at the old woman that could melt the ice caps.
“One room will be perfect,” He doesn’t glance at you, but makes a show of letting his arm hang over your shoulder, his fingers trailing against the goose pebbled skin of your arms, “Thank you,”
The old motel manager nods, smiling as if she is pleased to have her suspicions confirmed, slipping into the back to retrieve your key and make sure the room is ready. As soon as she disappears, you shrug off Jeongguk’s arm, trying not to wince as you step away, putting space between the two of you.
“What the hell?” You say, voice low so your ridiculous cover isn’t blown, “Now we’re gonna have to share a room, you moron,”
“If you think I’m carrying you another dozen miles on my back until we find another motel with two rooms, you’ve got another thing coming,” He says, frowning as always, “Suck it up. We get a bed and a shower, somewhere warm until we can get picked up tomorrow morning,”
He has a point, and boy do you hate him for it. Your cell phones are effectively useless, but you can use the motel landline to at least call Seokjin and let him know you’re both okay. You’re positive he is going ballistic now wondering where the two of you are, and if your abandoned car is found, he will send out search parties looking for the two of you. And it would be nice to shower off all the rain and rest before you return to civilization.
When you fail to answer, Jeongguk snorts, his eyes rolling heavenward before he checks to see if the lady is gonna come back. When the coast remains clear, he speaks again, voice quiet like last time.
“It’s not like we have to put on much of a show,” He says, his eyes sliding to you and away from the back office, as if the old woman is going to reappear and kick you both out for sharing a room unwed, “Sharing a bed shouldn’t be too hard,”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be asking for extra pillows,” You say, “If you think I’m sleeping next to you without a pillow fort you are sorely mistaken,”
“Don’t trust yourself?”
“I would rather straddle a cactus than go anywhere near you,” The sentence feels a little too close to a lie, and you feel odd about that fact. The day’s events have left you feeling unbalanced, deluded even, and you know for sure that with water, rest and painkillers, you will be back to despising every inch of the man staring back at you.
The woman, Hyejin, she reveals, hands the two of you your keys to room seven, obliging your request for extra pillows and dips into the first aid kit to provide you with ibuprofen and a bandage. Not the strongest painkiller, but it should help with the swelling at least. The room is tiny, but it’ll do. Jeongguk closes the door behind you both, locking it for good measure before he lets out a sigh of relief that echoes your own, your body sagging onto the bed as if you made the sound yourself.
The quiet of the motel room soon becomes awkward with the reminder that the two of you have to share a bed for the night, and the temptation to wait out the need to sleep is soon shattered when you yawn embarrassingly hard, your eyes opening to find Jeongguk watching you with a raised brow.
“Are you gonna shower, or not?”
Frowning, you stand with more effort than usual, balancing on your good foot which is already aching from the long journey. Jeongguk notices this, stepping forward once as if he’s gonna attempt to break your fall, or push you over, the look on his face is confusing.
“You can go first, I have a feeling it’ll take me longer than usual,” You hobble over to the side of the bed you have chosen, grabbing the pillows you brought over and lining them up. You grimace when you notice they don’t leave either of you much room on the tiny double bed.
“Are the pillows really necessary?” Jeongguk asks, his voice alarmingly close now, and you jump to find him peering over your shoulder at the fort you’ve assembled, “Either you can’t control yourself or you have some very wrong assumptions about my taste in women,”
“Oh, fuck you,” Grabbing a towel off the bed sheets, you limp towards the bathroom, forgoing your offer to let Jeongguk shower first. His dumbass can wait.
——
When Jeongguk makes it back to the motel room he’s actually somewhat shocked to find you sitting on the bed in a bathrobe. He was almost positive you were about to spend the entire evening in there for some reason, a ploy to avoid him, though he takes one glance at you attempting to wrap the bandage Hyejin had given you when you both checked in that he thinks he can’t exactly blame you.
You’re perched on the edge of the thin mattress, pillow fort demolished in favour of you propping two of them behind your back as you balance your swollen ankle on your thigh, brows furrowed deep in concentration, your tongue poking your cheek a couple times. He almost laughs because of how absurd this evening has become. A few hours ago he was being photographed for Calvin Klein, now he’s preparing to spend the night sleeping on a questionable motel mattress beside the one woman who has made it her mission to make his life hell.
And for some god forsaken reason, he wants to help you put that damn bandage on before you spend the next two hours trying to do it yourself.
Putting his gym bag by the bed, he kneels next to you, your eyes meeting him with a multitude of questions in them, and he is sure he doesn’t want to hear them all.
“Let me do it,”
You pull away from him slightly, though you don’t get up, eyeing him with suspicion, “What are you doing?”
Tugging at your hands, he frees the bandage from your fingers, circling his grip around your ankle, gently so he doesn’t hurt you too much. He starts at the heel, wrapping it tight enough to give you support without causing you any further discomfort. He frowns the entire time, “I’m saving us both the time and wrapping your foot for you,”
“I don’t need -”
“My help. I know,” He glances up at you, momentarily caught off guard by how different you look without makeup, face fresh and scrubbed clean. You look so innocent, so sweet despite the near scowl you’re sporting as you watch Jeongguk’s fingers work, wrapping the bandage flat against your skin. The two of you don’t say anything further, and Jeongguk’s eyes fall back to what he is doing, ignoring the way you have made the room smell, the cheap motel body wash taking on a whole different scent when its on your skin.
He shakes himself out of it, focusing on your ankle and listening for any hitches in your breath or winces to be sure he isn’t hurting you. Too much, anyway. Once he’s done, he tucks the end of the coarse, stretchy material under the folds he has created around your foot, supportive but not too restrictive. He doesn’t need you complaining about a loss of circulation. He places your foot back on the ground, trying and failing not to let his fingers brush the maddeningly soft skin of your calf again. He pulls away before he gets any stupid ideas like offering you a massage.
“Thanks,” You say, weary but marginally more relaxed now your ankle is wrapped up. Jeongguk knows the feeling from his many injuries after the gym or one of the many active pastimes he used to take part in before he got dragged into…everything.
“No problem,” Jeongguk answers gruffly, feeling the need to avoid eye contact with you for some reason. He bends down to the gym bag, pulling out the clothes he washed in the tiny laundromat by the side of the reception hut. He tugs out your dress, folding it neatly on the bed. He doesn’t want to, but he wonders very briefly where your underwear is, and why you didn’t give it to him to be washed. He doesn’t dwell on it, however, knowing that things could get very awkward very quickly if he were to handle your delicates. Even if he is wondering what colour they are.
You stand from the bed, tying the robe tighter around your waist before you pull back the covers on the bed, sitting down on the lumpy mattress. Jeongguk tugs out his gym sweats, holding out the t-shirt as he glances at your attire.
“Are you sleeping in that?”
You’re frowning again, that little crease between your brows becoming so familiar to Jeongguk he doesn’t even get annoyed when he sees it anymore. It’s an odd feeling.
“This? Yeah,” You say, gesturing down to your robe. The material looks scratchy at best, and Jeongguk knows it’s hardly comfortable enough to sleep in, “I can’t sleep in my dress, and I’m not - “ you stop talking abruptly, eyes meeting Jeongguk’s before they dart away again, and all of a sudden he feels warm all over at the implication of you sleeping nude.
He thrusts the t-shirt towards you once again, “Wear this. I washed it, it’s clean,”
“I can’t wear your t-shirt,” You say hotly, as if the mere thought is scandalous in itself. Jeongguk rolls his eyes.
“Y/N, it’s a shirt. It’s just to sleep in,”
“You wore it to the gym,”
“And as I said before, it has been washed,” Jeongguk’s brow lifts, and he almost wants to grin at the annoyance that flicks across your features, “Did you think I went to the laundromat for a fun little trip? Come on,” he tosses it at you then, and you sigh, picking it up and marching off to the bathroom.
He uses the time to gather the few toiletries he takes with him to the gym, and he’s thankful he was planning to make the trip after the shoot. Who knows what the two of you would have to sleep in otherwise - Jeongguk is well aware of the fact there is only one bathrobe in the room. Once more the thought leaves him with a rush of heat swelling over his skin.
When you leave the bathroom, Jeongguk is just gathering a towel and his body wash when he looks up, his breath stilted in his throat when he gets a full view of you wearing his t-shirt and nothing else. His body is conflicted, warring with what he knows about you and what other parts of him are eager to find out.
Your legs, long and smooth, disappear under the hem of his shirt that falls to mid thigh. You sway awkwardly in the doorway of the bathroom, surrounded by the sweet smelling steam that had Jeongguk leaving the room earlier, eager to get away from the scent of the soap you were washing your body with. A body he had plastered to his back most of tonight, and hell if he isn’t thinking about his hands on your thighs again.
He needs to get into the shower and wash away these stupid thoughts, he needs to sleep, desperately, but he is reminded all over again that he is about to spend the night next to you. Surrounded by the way you smell, and haunted by the way you look wearing his clothes, like you’re simply his girlfriend spending the evening curled up beside him, wearing his t-shirt and laying your cheek on his chest.
“I’m gonna get in the shower,” He says, hurriedly dragging his eyes from your clean, flushed face and racing by you to get into the bathroom. He slams the door shut, all but throwing you out of the way in an effort to get this damn night over with.
He can’t wait to get back to normality.
———
The bed is too small.
Your body is stiff, the lingering ache in your ankle keeping you awake. The painkillers have taken the edge off, but you’re still left with the sore reminder. The bandage - though you have tried not to think too much about it - is firmly wrapped around the swelling, supporting it so it doesn’t move too much while you sleep. Not that you will be getting much of that.
The pillow fort was abandoned roughly twenty seconds after you got into bed, your limbs hardly able to squeeze into the thirty centimetres of mattress you had left once you had re-erected the wall of pillows between you and Jeongguk. Now, you are wondering if the floor is clean enough to sleep on, because you aren’t sure you can spend the night like this. Your arm almost flush against Jeongguk’s back, his warmth seeping into your skin.
Why does he have to be so…huge? He is taking up so much space, his body still and quiet, and you’re not even sure if he is asleep or not. You know shoving him away won’t do anything but making him fall off the bed, and you’re quickly becoming more overwhelmed, trapped in his space, his scent, his damn clothes.
The t-shirt is expensive, it must be, because it feels like the worst kind of heaven on top of your bare skin. You’re almost embarrassed all over again when you realise for the hundredth time since you put it on that you’re naked beneath it, apart from your underwear that you had to pull out of your purse, refusing to let Jeongguk take your intimates to the laundromat.
Those old ass machines would chew up the delicate fabric, plus you weren’t about to let Jeongguk get his mitts anywhere near your panties. You are at peace with wearing the underwear an extra day if it means you can feel just a little more secure sharing a bed with this man.
Not that Jeongguk would try anything, you’re pretty sure about that. He hates you probably more than you hate him. And you do still hate him. Even if he was willing to give you his shirt so you didn’t have to sleep in the questionably clean robe. Even if he bandaged your ankle. Even if he walked god knows how long with you on his back during a storm.
You hate him. Or, if you’re gonna allow yourself the possibility, you definitely still dislike him. He is arrogant, and frustrating. And a brat.
His body shifts against your arm, and you jump again, his bare skin brushing yours as you try to roll over. But now your ass is almost pressed against his ass, and you can’t have that. So you roll back, resigned to facing his back, but you both move at the same time, and suddenly you hear a yelp in the darkness when your hand meets something soft.
“Ow,” He mutters, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
He huffs, his minty breath brushing your hair from your forehead, “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to remain unconscious while you beat me in my sleep?”
“I didn’t mean to,” You say, forcing your head back down onto the pillow, even as you realise the two of you are now facing each other. Your eyesight has adjusted a little to the dark and you can just make out his eyes and his lips, “Are you staring at me?”
“You were staring first,”
“I was n- “ You sigh, pulling the blanket up to your chin as some form of protection. You’re so unprepared for all that today has thrown at you. Your body exhausted, your mind quickly following as you resign yourself to your situation. “I can’t sleep. I’m not used to sharing a bed,”
Jeongguk doesn’t make fun of you, which is what you are initially expecting. Instead his pillow rustles as he shifts slightly, “Yeah, me neither,”
This surprises you, knowing what you know about Jeongguk, but he doesn’t give you long to dwell on it before he’s back to his old tricks, the ghost of a smile glinting at you in the darkness.
“At least I’m not used to sleeping next to someone,” He says, and you roll your eyes, “I can feel you rolling your eyes right now,”
“Considering what you just said, that’s not impressive,” You reply, and Jeongguk actually laughs, a breathy, quiet chuckle, but you hear it. You feel it deep in the pit of your stomach, and you screw your eyes closed, begging sleep to take you so you can wake up and go back to normal.
“What about you?” He asks, and when you don’t respond, he elaborates, “You know all about my dating history. Do you have any interesting dating stories, or an ex I can make fun of?”
Oh, if only you knew, you think, but you can hardly blurt out the whole sorry tale of your foolish love affair with Donghun. It wouldn’t exactly make you look good to your client. But then again, you’re in bed with him, wearing his shirt. Maybe that ship has already sailed. Though, something about the reminder of you sharing a bed with Jeongguk has a twist of anxiety knotting itself in your chest, and he has to say your name twice before you respond.
“I thought you’d fallen asleep,” He says, and you try to ignore the slight tone of relief in his voice, but it’s near impossible when he is inches away from you, “So, any depressing love stories I should know about?”
Maybe you can tell him a little, though you’re not sure why you want to. “Why are you interested in my love life?”
“If you can’t have deep conversations with your sworn enemy on a night like tonight, when can you?” You feel the sheets shift as he shrugs before settling deeper into the mattress, as if he’s eager to hear your story, “Tell me. I will pinky promise that it will never get mentioned again. We can go back to hating each other’s guts tomorrow morning,”
Is he saying he doesn’t hate your guts right now? The thought flashes through your mind and you swat it away like it’s an impatient fly.
“My last relationship was two years ago,” You say, though you actively avoid the juicier details, “He cheated on me, and I have sworn off men ever since. So no dates for me,”
It’s brief, and likely too brief given the way Jeongguk seems to remain silent, as if he’s waiting for more details. He gives up after a few moments however, sighing and speaking with what appears to be genuine sympathy, “That sounds rough. What an ass,”
It’s strange, even after all you went through with Donghun, to hear someone call him an ass. Even if Jeongguk doesn’t know he’s calling his rival and fellow golden boy of Korea an ass. It still makes you feel slightly better even if it’s Jeongguk saying it.
The two of you fall into a steady silence, your breathing the only sound in the room, and you almost think Jeongguk has fallen asleep, and you find yourself just slipping into unconsciousness when you hear him speak again.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” He says, his voice low, sincere, and it’s like a shot of adrenaline to your chest, “I acted like an ass the other week. Throwing that party,”
“I’m not about to disagree with you,” Is your reply, and the honesty of it has a laugh bursting from Jeongguk, unexpected and boyish, and it has you smiling along with him even as you try to suppress it.
He grows quiet once more, your tired eyes finding his through the darkness, but he looks away quickly while your cheeks burn for some reason, “It’s probably pretty obvious that I’m not doing great right now,” the confession is raw, real as he speaks almost in a whisper, as if he wants to keep this conversation within the tiny bubble between you both, nestled in this lumpy, hard motel bed, “I haven’t handled it very well,”
You are aching to get to the bottom of the mystery that is Jeon Jeongguk, your eyes watching him in the darkness as he picks at a stray thread on the pillow under his head, gaze down cast. It has you itching to hold his hand, but you don’t, knowing full well it would be inappropriate, not to mention weird given the circumstances.
“Has…something happened?” You ask, feeling it when it happens, the walls coming down between you both even as you soldier on, holding for a loose brick or a crack in the surface so you can help Jeongguk not just as his publicist, but also maybe, one day, as a friend of sorts, “Something to make you act out?”
The air chills a little, the playful warmth that had wrapped the two of you up evaporating within mere seconds. Jeongguk’s eyes avoid yours in the darkness as if he’s remembered who you are and what he’s saying, and he shakes his head, speaking roughly. “Nope,” he replies, “I’m just fucked up. Nothing special,”
He doesn’t wait for you to respond, turning over and effectively ending your conversation. Once more, you’re lost as you stare at the back of his head, feeling almost foolish for wanting to know about your client, putting yourself at risk once more by getting too involved, too close. So, you follow his lead, turning over to face the windows, your back to Jeongguk as you speak quietly into the silence.
“Good night,”