@ryunhovld
geonwoo felt a headache beginning to bloom behind his eyes. his face had been pinched in a glare ever since he walked on the filming set for their performance video a few hours ago, all the way through hair and makeup styling, right up until they were getting ready to film. the tension in his muscles was starting to get to him, but he couldn’t relax, not when he knew that he would have to dance with sebin.
it must have been some kind of sick joke, giving the two of them a shared part and pair choreography for this video. it was no secret to anyone that the two of them hated each other with a passion-- but here they were, expected to act all buddy-buddy on camera. geonwoo had been fuming over it initially, and while his anger had simmered down over time to a low boil, he was still not happy or okay with it in any way.
when confronted with actually having to film it and sell it on camera, though, the anger came roaring back, like a fire ignited. he’d been on edge and tense all day, pacing around the set, shaking his leg in the makeup chair to the point that the stylist had to tell him to cut it out. geonwoo felt like he was seconds away from blowing up, and while he had enough sense to try to keep himself in check on set, he couldn’t guarantee that he would be able to keep it under control if sebin even looked at him the wrong way.
thankfully, not everyone was as aggravating as sebin-- ryunho was like a glass of cold water on a sweltering day. something about the younger man always helped geonwoo get more of a handle on himself. he didn’t know what it was, but it always seemed to happen naturally; when ryunho was around, geonwoo didn’t feel the sharp bite of anger anymore. so, when he saw ryunho sitting off to the side with an empty seat next to him, he made a b-line over and plopped down heavily.
“dude, this is such bullshit.” he began after a few moments and a heavy sigh. he wanted to run his hands through his hair, scrub at his face, but he knew it would mess up his makeup. he settled for tucking his hands under his jittering legs. “why do i have to dance with him?”
