TBM Vol 2 Part 3
by Cherry/Chat window with 4566/ [□] [X]
4566 has requested a conversation.
4566 has joined the conversation.
> ⁜ If someone impersonates an acquaintance to ask for money or violates online conversation rules, please use the reporting service from the chat menu.
4566: Why has it been so long since you last shot a video?
4566: Please upload the song quickly.
tangerine(나): I’m sorry. Something came up.
4566: ?
4566: What happened?
tangerine(나): I fought with my dad, and he took my laptop.
4566: Hahaha.
4566: Just go to a PC room and upload it!
tangerine(나): I have nowhere to singㅠㅠ
4566: Just lock the door of your room.
tangerine(나): Locking the door might work…
4566: There’s nothing stopping you;;
tangerine(나): Anyway, I came online as soon as I got my laptop back~!
4566: Okay, please upload the song.
tangerine(나): Were you waiting for me?
tangerine(나): Oh, but my hand isn’t fully healed yet. I can’t upload it this week either. I’ll definitely upload it next week.
4566: ????
4566: Did you hurt your hand? Why?
tangerine(나): I bumped into somethingㅠㅠ
4566: How could you get hurt? I thought you were invincible!
tangerine(나): It’s hard for me to type… You’ve got such a great empathy.
4566: Please make sure to upload it next week. I’m dying of anticipationㅠㅠ
tangerine(나): Yes, thank you!
4566: ㅂ2ㅂ
4566 has left the chat room.
As soon as the chat window closed, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. His number one fan, ‘4566’—the first and last fan he had since abandoning his dream of becoming a singer—had appeared in his dream for the first time in ages. At first, he felt fine and tried to go back to sleep, but a dry mouth and a rumbling stomach refused to let him rest.
Unable to ignore the discomfort, Il-seo opened his eyes, only to be struck by sudden alertness. His expressionless face, which had been staring blankly at unfamiliar wallpaper, cracked as his mind wavered between dream and reality.
‘Where am I?’
Wherever this was, he realized he had to get moving—it was early morning, and he needed to meet Kyung-hyun soon. But the surroundings were unfamiliar. Panic set in, and he quickly sat up, turning his head.
“Ugh,” he muttered as a wave of nausea hit. Exhaling slowly, Il-seo tried to calm his upset stomach. Bit by bit, hazy memories of the previous night began to surface. There had been a company dinner, where he drank quite a bit while enjoying beef ribs. Then, Seung-yeon had pulled him aside and coldly scolded him to stop drinking…
“You’ve got quite the temper.”
His head snapped toward the voice.
“Crazy…”
“You sure know how to curse.”
The low voice that had echoed in his head was suddenly right beside his ear. His face went blank, and he slowly turned like a rusty robot, terrified of what he might see.
The first thing that caught his eye was the overly neat script of The Temperature of Flood. Then, a large, elegant hand casually tossed the script onto the table. Following the hand, his gaze landed on Seung-yeon, who sat diagonally on a leather armchair, his legs crossed and lazily shaking.
Il-seo’s gaze shot downward immediately, too overwhelmed to face him properly. But what he saw next made his heart race with horror.
“…What?”
Underneath the thick blanket, he was completely naked. He quickly pulled the blanket up to his chest.
‘What the hell happened?’
Il-seo had no memory of downing a mug of beer mixed with soju. After that, it was like someone had cut his memories with scissors. His head spun, and the sickly taste of soju in his throat made his stomach churn.
“Is it bad?”
Seung-yeon stood up, took a hangover remedy from a convenience store bag, and handed it to me. With trembling hands, he drank it all in one gulp.
“…I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who made you drink.”
Seung-yeon took the empty bottle and sat back down, crossing his legs lazily. He must have blacked out after he talked back to him at the dinner, then somehow ended up here in his house, with his clothes… gone. So many steps were missing from his memory, and Il-seo couldn’t recall a single one.
In my 26 years, he’d never blacked out this badly.
“S-senior…”
“Yes, Il-seo?”
His voice was calm, even affectionate, but it felt hollow. His lips quivered as he stammered.
“I… I drank too much, and I guess I felt hot so the clothes…”
“Oh, the clothes?”
Seung-yeon tilted his head, raising an eyebrow.
“I took them off.”
“Huh?!” Il-seo stared at him in disbelief. His lips curled into a strange, mocking smile, dimples appearing. It was a smile, but his eyes were devoid of warmth.
Seung-yeon sat there, seemingly more exposed than me, even though he was wearing a thin robe. His bare skin peeked through the fabric, and his crossed legs were also bare.
“Why… why am I not wearing clothes?”
He stammered, inspecting himself under the blanket. Thankfully, there were no strange marks. But then he noticed that his nipples were slightly swollen, with faint red marks around them.
‘No way.’
But no, this couldn’t be what he was imagining. Seung-yeon was known for his strict privacy, never getting involved in scandals. This wasn’t something he would do—not with anyone, let alone him.
After considering things rationally, he realized there was no way anything inappropriate had happened. He sighed, feeling a bit more at ease.
“Haha… Senior, you’re quite the drama queen, aren’t you?”
“…”
“You had me take off my clothes all night. That’s funny, right?”
He tried to play it off with a laugh, but his smile felt twisted. Seung-yeon, however, just kept staring at him with that cold, scrutinizing gaze. The silence stretched, and his expression slowly faded.
Suddenly, he blurted out, “Did we… sleep together?”
“No.”
He relaxed slightly at the quick response.
“Oh… no? Haha, that’s a relief.”
“Not yet.”
His cryptic reply unsettled him again. Seung-yeon pulled a cigarette from a pack, lighting it with an air of nonchalance.
“But, Il-seo…”
His words were muffled by the cigarette between his lips. He spoke so casually, yet it sent a chill down Il-seo’s spine.
Thump, thump.
Seung-yeon lowered his head, lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply until his cheeks flushed slightly. As he exhaled, thin streams of smoke leaked from his lips, which parted slowly.
“Why can’t we sleep?” he asked.
“What?” Il-seo replied, caught off guard.
“Is there any reason we can’t sleep together?” Seung-yeon asked again, his eyes closing as a smile crept across his face—a smile that Il-seo knew well. It was the one he often wore while staring off into the distance, usually at a crowd beyond the screen, cigarette dangling from his lips. That familiar, almost intoxicating smile.
Il-seo’s face flushed with heat, and he quickly turned away. He knew if he kept looking into his eyes, his expression would betray him. He felt a tightening in his chest and a nervous flutter in his stomach.
“Cough.” Il-seo, losing his breath for a moment, inhaled the lingering smoke, causing a small fit of coughing. Cold sweat trickled down his back as he clutched the white blanket tightly.
His mind whirled with conflicting thoughts, and he felt light-headed from the tension. If this wasn’t a dream, then it means that Seung-yeon had just casually suggested the idea of sleeping together. Sure, he knew he was gay, but if he wasn’t uncomfortable with it, then what was the problem?
“Oh, no,” he stammered, still confused.
Seung-yeon’s smile remained. “Yeah?”
“…Then why do you look so messed up?” he asked. “You’re acting embarrassed.”
“I’m sorry,” Il-seo quickly apologized, bowing his head, not even sure what kind of face he was making.
Seung-yeon, not replying, stood up, buttoning his robe. He walked across the room, the soft sound of his slippers punctuating the silence. He grabbed his script from the table, its pages slightly bent from use.
“You need to sober up, but I don’t have anything good at home,” he said casually.
“Oh… I’m fine,” Il-seo replied awkwardly.
“Then go wash up. We have to leave soon.”
“Okay.”
As Seung-yeon reached for the door, he paused and turned back.
“By the way, I sent your clothes to the laundry service.”
“Huh? Laundry?” Il-seo was confused.
“You threw up a lot last night,” he said, raising a single eyebrow.
“…Oh,” Il-seo muttered, embarrassed.
“I’ll give you one of my clothes. You can wear them for today.”
“I’m sorry,” Il-seo mumbled, still ashamed. “I didn’t realize I drank that much.”
Seung-yeon gave a small, wry smile. “Yeah, you sure know how to drink…”
With that, he left the room. The door clicked shut, and silence filled the space again. Alone, Il-seo slowly raised his hand, burying his face in it. His cheeks were still burning with heat as he had not fully recovered from the earlier exchange. He felt despair wash over him as he replayed the events of the previous night in his mind. Not only had he drunkenly thrown up, but Seung-yeon had also taken off his clothes afterward. The thought made him cringe.
“Are you stupid, Il-seo?” he muttered to himself, recalling the voice of CEO Kim, who always emphasized the importance of maintaining a good image. Far from looking presentable, Il-seo had done the opposite. He drank too much, threw up, and even ruined his clothes.
“He must’ve seen everything,” he whispered, feeling utterly humiliated.
Determined to shake off the embarrassment, Il-seo quickly rushed to the bathroom. He washed himself thoroughly, checking his body for any marks or signs of the previous night. Aside from his swollen nipples, his skin was free of any suspicious traces. Once he dried himself off, he opened the door, peeking through the steam-filled gap to grab the neatly folded clothes waiting for him.
“Thank you,” he murmured to the empty room, hurriedly putting on the oversized underwear and clothes. Though they didn’t fit perfectly, they were decent enough. He rolled up the sleeves of the long-sleeved shirt and tightened the waist of the pants before heading to the living room, shaking out his damp hair.
“Senior, I’m ready,” he called out.
Seung-yeon, who was sitting on the sofa, stood up, his blue shirt crisp and his black pants neatly pressed. His eyes briefly flicked to Il-seo, specifically to the rolled-up sleeves, before he handed him his bag.
As they left the house and stepped into the white van, Hwan, the driver, turned around and greeted them with a bright smile. “Good morning! Are you feeling okay?”
Il-seo forced a smile, trying to appear more composed than he felt. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Hwan chuckled. “Want some coffee? I bought it earlier.”
Grateful for the offer, Il-seo accepted the cup of Americano. As he drank, the cold liquid helped clear the last remnants of his hangover. Feeling slightly more alert, he pulled out his phone, only to be greeted by a series of missed calls and texts.
“Kyung-hyun hyung / Missed calls (7)”
“Jae-ho hyung / Missed calls (1)”
He winced, realizing how many people had been trying to reach him. Quickly, he opened the messaging app.
He erased the pop-ups and quickly opened the messenger app.
Kyung-hyun hyung: “Il-seo, are you drunk? Jae-ho said he’d bring you home. Sorry, my kid suddenly got sick. Call me tomorrow when you wake up. I’ll make sure to come on time.” [11:20 PM]
By that point, Il-seo had already lost his senses. He wished he could turn back time as he read the next messages with a sinking heart.
Kyung-hyun hyung: “’You are not home? Where are you?” [7:30 AM]
Kyung-hyun hyung: “It wasn’t Jae-ho, it was Sa Seung-yeon who brought you home? Are you at his place?” [7:40 AM]
Kyung-hyun hyung: “Answer your phone. We need to talk.” [7:44 AM]
Kyung-hyun hyung: “It’s not a dire situation, right?” [7:48 AM]
Kyung-hyun hyung: “Call me when you see this.” [7:50 AM]
The messages stacked up in rapid succession, reflecting Kyung-hyun’s mounting frustration. Since Seung-yeon was right next to him, calling wasn’t an option, so he hastily replied to each text, explaining that he had stayed at Seung-yeon’s house, was in the car with him now, and apologized profusely. The read receipts appeared almost immediately, followed by a response.
Kyung-hyun hyung: “You’re going to be in troubleㅡㅡ;; What the hell happened?” [8:12 AM]
Il-seo: “It’s fine, hyung. I’m really sorry. I promise this won’t happen again.” [8:12 AM]
Kyung-hyun hyung: “Okay, see you on set.” [8:13 AM]
Thankfully, Kyung-hyun’s anger seemed to subside a bit. Il-seo sighed in relief and moved on to the next message.
Jae-ho hyung: “Kyung-hyun called me. He’s worried. Did you get home properly last night?” [7:34 AM]
Jae-ho hyung: “You’re not in trouble, are you?” [7:35 AM]
Jae-ho hyung: “Il-seo ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ” [7:37 AM]
He really had caused trouble for so many people. Guilt gnawed at him as he busily typed out replies, explaining that he had contacted Kyung-hyun, and while nothing major had happened, he had woken up naked after vomiting. He winced at the thought, casting a nervous glance at Seung-yeon, who was calmly reading his script and while sipping coffee.
“Excuse me,” he ventured softly. “About your clothes—how should I return them?”
“Let’s talk later,” he responded without lifting his eyes from the script. Then he pulled out his earphones and put them in, signaling the end of the conversation.
Relieved by his refusal to discuss the matter further, Il-seo rummaged through his bag and quietly pulled out his own script. The car ride to the filming location was steeped in silence, punctuated only by the quiet hum of the engine. Seung-yeon, meanwhile, was lost in thought, replaying the events of the previous night.