[improv? | hwiyoung]
genre(s): fluff, celebrity au (they're both actors), rivals to?? (they were highschool rivals) | warnings: hwiyoung, makeout sesh (he's locked OUT during a scene shoot he just wants you), yearning (he just don't wanna talk about it guys) | words: 1.1k | @fantasia-films | @fish-and-cake-net | @k-records | masterlist.
a/n: uni lowk kicking my ass but we pull thru BRINGING BACK HWIYOUNG WEEK W @slytherinshua !!! my fav week of the year fr (gives me an excuse to yap abt him) 🛐🛐🛐
!♡
The set was too familiar for Youngkyun’s comfort.
Not in the physical sense, the carefully built riverside apartment, the convenience store, the bright glow of streetlights meant to mimic the quiet loneliness of the Han River at midnight.
No. It was the story.
That was the problem.
Two stubborn high school rivals. Years of tension. Years of circling each other, sharp words, sharper looks, unfinished things hanging between them.
Then adulthood... Distance. Careers. A reunion. Feelings dragged out into the open. It wasn't anything new.
But to him, it felt less like acting and more like someone had stolen pieces of his life and dressed them up as a script.
And now Youngkyun had to stand in the middle of it. Across from you.
Again.
“You’re distracted.”
Your voice snapped him back.
Between takes, you were sitting on the bench, script folded neatly in your lap, eyes half-lidded as if you already knew exactly what was running through his head.
Youngkyun smiled. “You wish.”
A slow look from you, annoyingly unreadable. Just like high school.
Back then, he’d throw every jab he could think of your way, just to get something out of you. A reaction. Anger. Anything.
Just to get your attention back on him.
And every time, you’d stare at him like he was mildly inconveniencing your day
It always drove him insane.
“Positions!”
The director’s voice cut through the set, precise and everyone shuffled into place.
This was the scene.The confession scene.
The one where their characters, after years of unresolved tension, finally cornered each other under the bridge after midnight, exhausted from life, from work, from pretending.
Youngkyun adjusted his shirt, exhaling.
It’s acting. Just acting.
Atleast he tried to tell himself that as the cameras rolled, the rain machines drizzling softly overhead.
You stood a few feet away, looking at him with that expression.
That…expression.
God, help him.
It was part of the script, he knew. The hurt, the anger, the longing.
But it looked too real.
“You always do this,” you said, voice low, trembling with frustration. “Push me away, act like none of it mattered.”
Youngkyun swallowed, forcing himself to exhale.
Right.
His lines.
He stepped closer.
“That’s because if I let it matter, you'd…-you…”
He stopped midway when your eyes locked onto his.
And suddenly, he felt like he was seventeen again, standing near the school gates, wanting to grab your wrist and ask why you always walked away first.
It was like the years folded in on themselves.
High school hallways. Glances passed when you weren't looking. Petty fights. Award ceremonies. Passing each other backstage.
His stupid, relentless need to stay in your orbit like how the moon rotates around the earth. Always, never changing. It was familiar, comfortable.
But…now this.
You took another step.
The script said you were supposed to grab his wrist here and you did, your fingers brushed his hand first.
Small, deliberate.
Yet his pulse stuttered when you did. It felt electric.
“Then why are you here?” you whispered.
And he thinks he must've really lost his mind right there because to him, it didn't sound like your character.
It sounded like you.
And that was the thing that broke him.
Because suddenly he couldn’t separate it anymore.
The script in his hand. The years behind him. The person in front of him.
They all blurred.
“...Because I like you…”
This wasn't…
“No, I-...I love you. Because you drive me crazy.”
Your brows lifted, just barely, a flicker of surprise in them.
He saw it but he couldn’t stop.
Not when you were looking at him like that.
Not when his chest felt like it was caving in.
He stepped forward until there was no space left between you.
His hand came up, cupping your face.
You looked at him, surprised, your hand coming up to cover his.
His thumb brushed your cheek. Warm and soft. It felt real. It felt perfect.
Youngkyun searched your face like he was trying to memorize it. Or maybe trying to find permission.
Then he leaned in, kissing you.
Soft at first, tentative but when you froze, just for a second, his heart nearly gave out.
Then your fingers curled into his sleeve.
And that was enough for him to let go.
He deepened the kiss, backing you against the railing as your arms wrapped around his neck.
It was like everything he had imagined before. Just a million times better.
Your lips were soft against his, too soft, he felt like he was losing his mind. And oxygen.
Just enough to forget the cameras.
Forget the lights.
Forget everything except you.
“Cut!”
The director’s voice rang through the set, and the world came crashing back all at once.
Youngkyun pulled away slowly, breath uneven, his hand still cradling your face for half a second too long before he forced himself to let go. Like he was finally processing where exactly he was right now.
The silence lasted exactly two seconds before the set exploded with cheers and applause.
“Wow.”
“That was insane.”
“The chemistry…-”
The director stood up from his chair, practically beaming. “That was incredible! The tension, the hesitation, the kiss, perfect instinct.”
Youngkyun nodded slowly, adjusting his collar.
Instinct. Right.
One of the assistant directors commented. “I know the kiss was supposed to be later but that felt natural.”
If only they knew.
If only they knew that the moment your hand touched his, every line in his head vanished.
That he’d stopped seeing the cameras.
Stopped seeing the crew. Stopped acting.
“Good improvisation, Hwiyoung,” the director added with an approving nod. “Keep that emotional flow. It worked.”
Youngkyun let out a short breath through his nose, forcing a smile.
“Yeah,” he said, voice quiet.”It just…came to me.”
Like he hadn’t been thinking about kissing you for years.
Hadn’t wanted to pull you closer and keep going until neither of you could breathe.
Hadn’t nearly forgotten where he was the second your lips moved against his.
Improvisation. That’s what it was.
He could play along. He had to for now atleast
But then he looked at you. And that was the problem.
Because you weren’t laughing with the staff. You weren’t brushing it off.
You were just staring at him, lips slightly swollen, eyes unreadable but far too focused on him.
Like you were trying to figure him out.
Like maybe you’d felt it too.
His chest tightened. Damn it.
He looked away first.
For all the years he’d spent provoking you, pushing, pulling, circling… he’d always been good at keeping the truth buried.
But right now, with eeveryone praising his “acting” while his pulse still raced from a kiss that was never supposed to happen yet, he could feel the cracks splitting wider.
And looking at you now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it hidden much longer.
!♡
taglist: @mayflyfr ,, @slytherinshua ,, @haeerizm <3
