Description: stagemanager!Chan is hopelessly in love in with you and accidentally tells the whole crew over the comms.
Warning: none
Word Count: 1864
Pairing: Chan x fem!reader
The best part-- and possibly the only good part-- of working on this play, Chan thinks, is hearing you recite the overly cheesy, romantic lines and sighing adoringly. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that you’re saying the lines about him and not about the male lead.
“Oh! A rose from him would be worth more than anything else in the world! How lucky you are!” you say, your voice dripping with longing.
“I would give you a thousand roses,” he whispers, forgetting that his mic is on and that the rest of the crew can hear him.
“Holy cow! Who said that?”
The entire comms bursts into laughter as his face reddens. The tech director, who is seated right by him and most definitely heard it, looks over, and Chan pleads with his eyes, “Don’t tell them.” Thankfully, the tech director is kind and doesn’t say anything.
“Stage crew, get ready for the next scene,” Chan says to interrupt the commotion.
It doesn’t stop the rest of the crew from giggling.
All Chan can do for the rest of rehearsal is try to ignore the jokes, but no one gives it up. It’s made worse when the director makes them practice the scene two more times. With you on stage and his friends in his ear, he can barely concentrate on his tasks.
At 8:30, rehearsals end, and Chan can relax a little. Tech notes that night, however, consists of actual critiques (“Stage crew needs to be faster during the blackouts,” “The music in rejection scene keeps clipping”) and everyone trying to figure out who replied to the girl.
Jeongin is the most persistent. “Jisung, say the line!”
“I would give you a thousand roses,” Jisung says dramatically. He clasps his chest in pain and repeats the line with even more false wistfulness.
It’s a poor impression, and Chan forces himself to laugh with everyone else.
“Chan, it’s your turn!”
He freezes and pretends to clear his throat to stall for time. He says his own stupid, thoughtless line and tries to hide his worsening blush by slowing sinking into his seat.
“Even Chan is cringing at how lame it was!”
If they only knew.
It’s at the third rehearsal after the incident where Seungmin catches him staring at you during warm-ups. He doesn’t say a word until he sees Chan practically swoon at you twirling and showing off your new costume.
Seungmin leans down and hisses into Chan’s ear, “It’s you.”
Chan jolts up, and it takes him all of his willpower to nonchalantly reply, “Don’t sneak up on me like that” and not scream, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I saw you.”
“Saw me what?”
“Staring at the girl. Her name’s Y/N, by the way.”
He nods and pretends as if he doesn’t already know. “That’s good to know.”
Seungmin smirks. “Chan, we all know it was you. You’ve been sighing into the comms since day one.” He pats Chan on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
Chan gives Seungmin an awkward smile and tells him, “We’re going to start soon. Tell the crew.”
Seungmin, still smirking, nods and does what he is told. When the headsets are on, he announces that Chan has been outed and that they are now free to tease him mercilessly. The comms are then peppered with “Hey, Chan? When are you going to give her a thousand roses?”
He ignores them and pretends to be hyper-focused on calling out cues. Eventually, the tech director gets tired of the same lame jokes and reminds them that opening night is in a week and a half. Everyone is serious for half a scene before they start whispering, “Chan, it’s Y/N” again when you appear on stage. A quick reprimand from the director only temporarily stops them.
Notes that night include “No more jokes about cast members.”
After the sixth rehearsal, Chan spots you carrying what seems to be all eleven of your costumes-- hats and belts included-- upstairs to the dressing room.
“Do you want some help?” he asks.
Over the pile of clothes, you answer, “It’s okay. We’re supposed to put our costumes back on the rack ourselves.”
“I can help you carry it up.”
“It’s alright. I got it,” you say as the two dresses on the top of the pile fall onto the stairwell. You tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and say, “Okay, I need some help.”
He picks up the two fallen costumes and takes another armful from you.
“You’re Chan, right?” you ask. “The stage manager?”
You know his name? It’s not surprising, but he is suddenly shy. “Yeah.”
“I’m Y/N. The second lead, but I somehow have more costume changes than the actual lead,” you tell him as you lead him up to the girls’ dressing room. “Let me check first.” You knock on the door and shout, “Everyone decent?”
“Hold on!”
After a minute, the door swings open, and three pairs of eyes stare as Chan walks in behind you. One of the girls-- the lead actress, Nayeon, he notes-- gives him a sly look and steps aside from the clothing rack.
“Helping Y/N?” she asks. “That’s sweet of you.” Her eyes flicker back and forth between you and Chan, and Chan can almost feel her plotting something.
“Chan, I have to rack them myself,” you remind him. You free your arms of the costumes you previously held and reach the ones in his arms. “Thanks for bringing them up,” you smile.
He nods quickly. “Yeah, no problem.”
As he turns around to leave, he accidentally hits the clothing rack with his shoulder.
“You okay?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he stammers. “All good. No damage done.”
You smile at his flusteredness and gently guide him to the door. “Good night.”
“Good night!” he practically yells.
His heart pounds and his ears burn as he runs back downstairs to the stage. He thought the superficial lines and sighing were going to be his downfall, but he is dead wrong; your smile is.
It’s opening night, and Chan’s job doesn’t give him the time to think about you, but his mind always goes to your smile and adoring looks anyway. He gives himself a mental scolding and starts getting ready for the show.
When he passes the dressing room on his way to the projection booth, he considers telling you to break a leg. His hand is raised to knock, and he can hear laughter and hangers clacking on the other side of the door.
He, however, is interrupted by Jisung. “Yo, Chan. Seungmin says you’re not at the projection booth yet.”
The message kicks him back into reality, and he drops his hand. “I’m on my way.”
At 7:30, the play begins, and Chan switches between calling out cues and listening to your sweet words. There’s only light teasing in the comms, but it’s mostly directed at the floor chief who tripped and fell on a cable during a blackout. The only major “rose incident” joke occurred after your now infamous line.
The night, with the exception of a few sound glitches and that one particular blackout, goes well, and both cast and crew are in high spirits. The crew stands near the back, laughing at the little mistakes made during the play and accepting compliments from leaving audience members.
Chan glances around, counting how many people are left. The front of the auditorium is crowded with cast members and their families, but his eyes land on you, still in your dinner party dress but with your heels in your hand instead of on your feet.
He sees you laugh at a comment Nayeon makes, and he wishes he were the one who made you laugh instead of her. It’s creepy, but he watches you chat with the lead actress. He follows your gaze-- it goes from Nayeon to the back of the auditorium before settling on himself.
The two of you make eye contact.
Chan’s heart thumps wildly, but he can’t look away.
You turn a delicate shade of pink for some reason, while Chan, on the other hand, is fire engine red.
You shyly smile and wave hello.
Chan suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. He lifts his arm up and stiffly waves back.
It’s only when you turn back to Nayeon is he able to regain some of his composure. Seungmin and Jisung witnessed the interaction, and they playfully clap and congratulate him. Chan buries his face in his hoodie sleeves and pleads them to stop.
He doesn’t notice you turning your attention back to him with newfound interest.
He quickly cleans up and collects his gifts after the final show-- cast and crew photos, some snacks from the director-- and sneaks out of the school and to his car. He double-checks the parking lot before opening his passenger seat door and carefully takes out a bouquet.
Seungmin opens the side door for him and hums approvingly at the flowers. He gives Chan an assuring pat on the back and sends him upstairs. Nayeon, coming down, sees the flowers and gives him an encouraging grin.
Chan grips his bouquet of lavender roses tightly before knocking on the dressing room door. There’s some rustling on the other side, and the sound of heels hitting the linoleum floor makes him even more nervous.
When he sees you, he’s breathless. Your hair, let down from its elaborate updo, tumbles down your shoulders in soft waves, and your cheeks are still rosy with excitement.
You see the flowers and giggle. “I was wondering when you would send me roses,” you tease, but your already rosy cheeks grow pinker. At his sharp inhale, you giggle again. “Nayeon told me about what you said.”
He runs a hand through his hair. Of course you found out. “I couldn’t afford a thousand, so I hope a dozen’s okay.”
“A rose from you would be worth more than anything else in the world,” you say as you hug the bouquet to your chest. “How lucky I am.”
He chuckles at the reference. There’s a lull in your conversation, so you busy yourself with straightening the ribbon and adjusting each roses’ position. Chan fiddles with his fingers as he tries to figure out what he should say next.
You finally break the silence by saying, “I should get out of my costume and start putting everything back.”
“Are you going to the cast and crew dinner?” he blurts out before you shut the door.
“Probably not. I don’t like the food at District 9. You?”
He planned to go, but now he wasn’t going to. “Me neither. Do you wanna get coffee or something at Yellow Wood instead?”
You smile. “Yeah. I love that place. See you in ten minutes?”
“I’ll be here waiting.”
You close the door, and Chan hears the hangers screeching across the rack inside. Chan leans against the wall and counts the number of dots on the ceiling panel above him in an attempt to calm his racing heart.
Maybe saying the one thousand rose comment wasn’t a terrible mistake.
