TBM Vol 1 Part 7

The final approval came, and Seung-yeon turned away with a strange expression, while the makeup and prop teams cleaned up the set. 

Meanwhile, Il-seo and he returned to their starting positions, waiting for the signal to begin shooting.

Just before the set doors closed, Seung-yeon instinctively glanced over. Il-seo, cigarette half-smoked, had already locked eyes with him, channeling Haru’s distant, detached gaze. Furrowing his brow like Tae-hyun, he closed the door.

With everyone cleared from the set, leaving only the essential crew, they began the full bed scene. The moment Seung-yeon entered the room, Il-seo turned his head slowly, dropping the cigarette into a cup. Collapsing onto the bed, he stretched out as he pounced on him. Unlike rehearsal, Il-seo’s breath caught audibly when Seung-yeon’s tongue slipped between his parted lips. Though momentarily surprised, Il-seo’s tongue quickly responded, moving just as deliberately as his.

“What the hell?” Seung-yeon thought.

Il-seo’s kiss felt more experienced than it had during the rehearsal as if his role as Haru had suddenly afforded him the confidence. Closing his eyes, Seung-yeon deepened the kiss, feeling his body tremble beneath his. Just as Il-seo attempted to pull away, Seung-yeon tightened his grip and continued the kiss with an almost obsessive intensity.

The kiss lasted far longer than they’d rehearsed, but Director Chae didn’t yell cut. Taking it as a sign, he went further, allowing Tae-hyun’s unrestrained lust to take over. When he bit down on Il-seo’s lower lip, the sharp taste of blood filled his mouth. His body stiffened, reacting to the pain, but he didn’t stop.

“Haa…”

Il-seo finally pulled away after a deep kiss, Seung-yeon’s lips lingering just long enough to leave their mark. As expected, blood appeared at the tip of Lee Il-seo’s swollen lower lip. Lying back on the bed to catch his breath, Il-seo nonchalantly wiped his lips with the back of his hand before quickly removing his T-shirt and shorts.

His slender, frail body was now fully exposed under the light. It became clear why Il-seo had seemed so light when Seung-yeon had pulled him earlier—his thin waist and torso, previously hidden under his loose clothing, were revealed, completely devoid of fat.

As Seung-yeon’s gaze drifted over Il-seo’s lean frame, his slender fingers gently grazed the top button of Seung-yeon’s shirt, brushing against his protruding collarbone. Seung-yeon frowned at the sudden, uninvited touch and looked at Il-seo, but Il-seo kept his eyes lowered, his expression unreadable. That detached demeanor reminded Seung-yeon of Jang Tae-hyun and Haru, which brought a discreet thrill to the director as he watched from behind the camera.

Il-seo’s fingers trembled as he undid the buttons. Even watching on the screen, it was clear that his hands hesitated before revealing Seung-yeon’s toned abs and his breath hitched as if battling to maintain his composure.

He could say with certainty that every ounce of patience he’d built over his twenty-six years was being tested at this moment. Il-seo, collecting himself after the brief wavering, wrapped his arms around Seung-yeon’s neck, his body pressed against the warmth of Seung-yeon’s skin.

Soon, they were tangled together in the sheets, being bare and exposed.

“Haa… huh…”

Their sensual breathing filled the room in place of scripted lines. Seung-yeon’s body moved rhythmically against Il-seo’s, their movements becoming increasingly intimate. Il-seo’s body reacted to every push, his breath hitching and his waist twisting each time their lower bodies touched through the thin fabric and tape.

Il-seo threw his head back, groaning, just as he had during the rehearsals. But now, his skin was slick with sweat, his veins protruding visibly on his neck. Seung-yeon bit his lower lip, a sudden, inexplicable thirst driving him to press harder against Il-seo.

The difference in their physiques made Il-seo’s body shake with every simulated thrust. The sound of their frottage echoed lewdly, almost indistinguishable from the sounds of real sex.

The camera captured their hands, their lower bodies, and finally, the tense final moments. Jang Tae-hyun groaned and embraced Haru tightly, while Haru’s hands, which had been clutching Tae-hyun’s back, slid lifelessly to the bed.

“Okay. Cut!”

Director Chae’s voice broke through the heavy panting that lingered on the set. Seung-yeon finally pulled himself up, his body cooling down from its earlier heat. Il-seo followed suit, his body slow to recover.

“Alright, let’s adjust the angle.”

Seung-yeon glanced over at Il-seo, who was still sitting on the bed awkwardly, his earlier blush and fast heartbeat from the kiss scene had long disappeared.

“Yes, should I look up like this?” Il-seo asked.

“Yeah. But which side would be better?” the director pondered.

“Since Jang Tae-hyun has a scar on this side of his face, it might be better if we show that…” Il-seo suggested with his typical calmness. His face, pale and vacant, made it hard for Seung-yeon to believe this was the same person from their earlier scenes. How could someone this professional still struggle on set?

“Tae-hyun, did you hear that?” Director Chae called out.

“Oh, yes,” Seung-yeon replied, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Let’s stay focused. Take it from the top.”

They filmed more intimate angles of their love scene, one after the other until the sun had set and Director Chae finally gave the okay sign. Kyung-hyun and Hwan rushed onto the set with blankets, covering their exposed bodies.

“Are we done for today?” Kyung-hyun asked, offering Il-seo his clothes. Il-seo quickly put on his shirt, though still looking flustered. Seung-yeon, meanwhile, took his time, fastening his pants and then throwing on his shirt haphazardly.

“Did it turn out well?” Seung-yeon asked, sipping on a coffee that Hwan had handed him as he approached Director Chae.

Director Chae smiled, offering an approving nod as Seung-yeon reviewed the footage. Even while drinking through a straw, his intense expression still carried remnants of Jang Tae-hyun’s character. Slowly, Seung-yeon was transitioning back into himself, a transformation that only those working closely with him could witness.

Kyung-hyun nudged Il-seo, who was watching Seung-yeon, lost in thought.

“Il-seo, what do you want to drink? Orange juice or coffee.”

“Juice, please. Thank you.” Il-seo replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, your lip is cracked. I’ll bring you some ointment too.”

As Kyung-hyun went to get the juice, Director Chae called Il-seo over. Il-seo swayed slightly as he stepped off the bed, his legs momentarily giving out beneath him.

“What do you think?” Director Chae asked, showing him the footage.

Il-seo turned his head to the screen. There were no major mistakes, but seeing his performance from a third-person perspective felt odd, almost dissatisfying. As he hesitated to respond, Seung-yeon’s calm voice cut through.

“Haru should’ve been breathing more steadily here.”

Seung-yeon, now fully back in character as Sa Seung-yeon, was already picking apart the scene. His critiques, though sharp, were always focused on the details.

“Haru’s gaze here looks too vulnerable,” Seung-yeon continued, pointing at the screen. “And he should’ve spread his legs more to make Jang Tae-hyun’s movements clearer. It’s not bad, but it could be better.”

Il-seo remained silent, his fingers twitching slightly as Seung-yeon’s words grew harsher.

“Honestly, you’re making Haru look a little too smitten. Jang Tae-hyun’s just a thug to him at this point, not someone he’s been secretly in love with.”

Il-seo, who had been quietly enduring Seung-yeon’s harsh criticism, twitched his fingers at his final words. Seung-yeon’s gaze shifted towards him, noticing the defeated look on his face as he stood motionless. He fell silent when he saw how pale he had become. Director Chae, observing the tense atmosphere between them, placed a hand on both their shoulders.

“I’m satisfied,” the director said calmly. “I agree with some of Seung-yeon’s points, but those can easily be edited out.”

Seung-yeon, respecting that editing was the director’s domain, simply nodded without adding further comment. As he turned to leave, he told them that he’d be going first, unless there was more to discuss. Il-seo bowed slightly at his retreating figure.

“… I’m sorry,” he murmured, knowing he must have heard him.

As Il-seo raised his head, his shoulders slumped. At that moment, Director Chae gently poked his side and spoke quietly.

“That’s just how Seung-yeon is.”

“Oh, yes.”

“He’s a bit tough today, but the more attached you are to a project, the more sensitive you become. If you want to do well, like Seung-yeon, don’t take it too hard—just absorb what you need.”

Il-seo was well aware of Seung-yeon’s intensity—both in his acting and his after-filming mood. To avoid causing any issues, he knew he had no choice but to work harder. Sensing Il-seo’s disheartened expression, Director Chae offered him some encouragement.

“Still, I liked what you did. It would’ve been even better if you had caught onto what Seung-yeon pointed out, but honestly, that’s still beyond your skill level—at least for now.”

“Yes,” Il-seo responded softly while nodding.

The director’s expression softened into a warm smile. “But I cast you because you’re talented, and that sense of uncertainty you have—it suits Haru’s character perfectly. Don’t get too discouraged.”

“Yes, I’ll do better next time.”

“I’m telling you, just keep doing what you’ve been doing,” Director Chae said, his tone reassuring.

Despite the reassurance, Il-seo felt a mix of disconcertment and anxiety as cold sweat formed on his back. Bowing his head so low that it almost touched his chest, he left the set.

As Kyung-hyun scanned the area, holding a drink in his hand, he spotted Il-seo approaching from a distance. Il-seo had vanished while Kyung-hyun was getting the drink, so he had waited a while for him to reappear.

“Here’s the drink. And don’t forget to apply the ointment before bed,” Kyung-hyun said while handing over the items.

Il-seo accepted them silently and climbed into the van, picking up his worn-out script. Kyung-hyun, watching through the rearview mirror, found Il-seo’s expression strange. Though the atmosphere on set had seemed fine, something must have weighed on Il-seo after his interactions with the lead actor and director.

Just before starting the car, Kyung-hyun remembered something and handed Il-seo a business card.

“Oh, Il-seo. Actor Sa Seung-yeon gave this to me earlier.”

Il-seo, deeply engrossed in his script, looked up suddenly. “Seung-yeon… sunbae?”

“Yeah, it’s his personal number. He told me not to save it though. Did you two exchange numbers?”

“No, we haven’t…”

“Really? So, is he trying to get closer to you?”

No way, Il-seo thought. That couldn’t possibly be the case. He took the card with a resigned expression, remembering the cold, sharp tone of Seung-yeon’s earlier remarks.

“He told me to tell you that you should not forget to contact him,” Kyung-hyun added.

“Yes… okay.”

The business card in Il-seo’s hand felt heavier than it should. Seung-yeon must have been severely disappointed with him today, especially since he was someone who sought perfection in every performance.

With a conflicted expression, Il-seo took out his phone and began entering Seung-yeon’s number. After a moment’s hesitation, he composed a brief apology.

“Hello, sunbae, this is Il-seo. I got your number from the manager. I’m really sorry about today. I’ll be more careful in the next filming~^^”

“Does that sound sarcastic…?” Il-seo muttered, frowning.

After some thought, he rewrote the message. “Hello, sunbae, this is Il-seo. I got your number from the manager. I’m really sorry about today. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Satisfied with the more formal tone, he deleted the tilde and emoticon before sending the message. He put his phone away and returned to reading his script.

Moments later, Il-seo felt his phone vibrate. At first, he ignored it and continued reading, but when it vibrated again, he sighed and checked his phone.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the name on the screen. He wasn’t expecting a response, but sure enough, it was from Seung-yeon.

“I don’t have the energy to look after others on set,” the first message read.

Il-seo’s expression darkened. The curt words felt like a cold reprimand. But as he read the next message, his eyes widened again in surprise.

“If you need to practice, come to my house.”

The contents were entirely unexpected.