TBM Vol 3 Part 16

“Okay! That’s great!”

Under the hot lights, Lee Il-seo and  Sa Seung-yeon stood in front of the camera. Though it was a photoshoot for a famous fashion magazine featuring the leads of ‘Temperature of Overflow’, the two now looked completely different from their characters in the work.

Lee Il-seo wore a brightly patterned knit sweater paired with loose-fitting shorts. His light makeup brought out a livelier aura than the quiet, brooding Haru. Sa Seung-yeon had his hair styled in soft curls, wore a roomy sweater over jeans, and sported glasses that gave him a gentle, intellectual vibe. Earlier, a slight mishap occurred when the original knit sweater he was supposed to wear turned out too tight around the shoulders—it had to be swapped at the last minute.

“Sa Seung-yeon, a little closer please.”

Despite the casual attire, the photographer’s requests were almost at the level of a couple’s photoshoot. Though they took individual photos too, there were many more shots of them together.

At one point, Sa Seung-yeon tilted his head slightly at the photographer’s request. Their noses brushed—barely—and their lips hovered just a breath apart. The closeness made Lee Il-seo painfully aware of every inhale, each exhale catching between them like a whisper.

“Good. Just close your eyes like that. Lee Il-seo, could you lift your head a little more?”

As Lee Il-seo timidly moved his head, Sa Seung-yeon grasped his hesitant chin with his fingertips and adjusted the angle to capture it beautifully for the camera.

“That’s good.”

Skilled and composed, Sa Seung-yeon occasionally stepped in to guide Lee Il-seo’s poses, a subtle echo of their days on set. He had always seemed absorbed in his own world during filming, barely acknowledging others. But somehow, whenever Lee Il-seo faltered, he was there with quiet help.

“Alright, that wraps up the shoot.”

“Thank you so much for your hard work.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for your work.”

After exchanging polite thanks with the crew, Sa Seung-yeon casually let go of the arm he’d had wrapped around Lee Il-seo’s shoulder, stepping away with practiced ease. Lee Il-seo stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where the warmth had been, before quietly returning to his seat to prepare for the interview.

During the break, the two waited in the prepared waiting room. Silence lingered in the room with just the two of them. Though they were never ones to have many conversations, the air somehow felt awkward and heavy. Reviewing the interview notes he had written down, Lee Il-seo secretly observed Sa Seung-yeon in the large mirror.

Sa Seung-yeon sat reclined, legs crossed, eyes closed. It was a posture that didn’t invite conversation. Not a stance you could casually interrupt, nor one that offered hope he’d open his eyes first and speak.

This was their first meeting since that day they encountered each other in front of Lee Il-seo’s home. And as expected,  Sa Seung-yeon’s attitude was cold as a knife. It was somewhat bitter to realize that the everyday conversations they’d had while filming the drama, the jokes they occasionally exchanged, were only permitted within their partner relationship, but from Lee Il-seo’s perspective, this was actually preferable.

A knock broke the stillness.

“You two, it’s time for the interview. Please come out when you’re ready.”

They soon found themselves seated for the magazine interview, refreshments and delicate desserts laid out before them. The mood was relaxed, and the interviewer alternated questions between them.

“There’s so much curiosity surrounding actor Lee Il-seo. Even though you’re called a newcomer, you’ve been in the industry for four years, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Was being an actor your dream since childhood?”

He replied with the polished answer he had memorized, careful to stick to what his agency had approved—enough to satisfy curiosity, but not too much. He explained how he’d dropped out of school at eighteen, originally trained to be a singer, and eventually found his calling in acting.

The interviewer smiled brightly at Lee Il-seo’s answer.

“Ah, so you were preparing to debut as a singer. That explains the buzz around Haru’s singing scene—it became a hot topic. I heard you actually sang live on set?”

Though his trainee period had left only painful memories, it was ironic that the training from that time had enabled him to be cast in this work.

“Lee Il-seo, with enough potential to be a singer, what sparked your interest in becoming an actor?”

This wasn’t on the prepared list of questions. It seemed to be simply the interviewer’s curiosity. Lee Il-seo opened his eyes a little wider and bit his lip momentarily. There was no need to lie. Trying not to be conscious of the person sitting beside him, he gave a brief answer.

“After watching Senior Sa Seung-yeon’s work.”

The interviewer let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth with her hand, then turned to Sa Seung-yeon. He chuckled too, legs casually crossed. But from Lee Il-seo’s seat, all he could see was the tip of his shoe—not his expression. It made it harder to smile.

“Come on~ That’s not just flattery, is it? Haha, you must have been so happy to work together with him.”

Lee Il-seo was grateful to the interviewer for lightly passing it off as a joke. Looking through her papers to check the list of questions, she threw out a lighter question to change the atmosphere.

“Lee Il-seo, is there a part of your body that you particularly like?”

“The mole near my eye. During my trainee days, I removed moles on my cheek and near my mouth without hesitation, but somehow I couldn’t remove this one. My mother had a mole in the same spot. I wanted to keep it for some reason.”

Lee Il-seo habitually brushed near his eye and smiled faintly. Though he felt Sa Seung-yeon’s gaze shift to his face for the first time, Lee Il-seo pretended not to notice and finished his answer with his eyes fixed on the interviewer.

An hour and a half later, the interview finally wrapped. Their first schedule together in a long time had passed more smoothly than he’d expected. As he gathered his things, Lee Il-seo approached Sa Seung-yeon at the exit.

“I’ll be going now, senior.”

“Good job today.”

Sa Seung-yeon smiled in that usual, easygoing way. Lee Il-seo mirrored it, lifting the corners of his mouth slightly. Somehow, he felt envious of how effortlessly Sa Seung-yeon could smile, pose, and exist in the same room without tension.

Choi Kyung-hyun, who had started the car in advance and warmed the air with the heater, handed Lee Il-seo a white paper bag as soon as he got in.

“Here.”

“Huh…?”

Lee Il-seo’s eyes widened enormously as soon as he saw the surface of the packaging. It had the familiar logo of a phone brand.

“Sa  Seung-yeon’s manager gave it to me. Said it’s a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Seems like he knows about your broken phone too.”

“Ah, yes… He does know.”

Mumbling, Lee Il-seo opened the box. Inside was a brand-new phone—and tucked beside it, a business card with Sa Seung-yeon’s personal number scribbled on it. He stared at the eleven digits and gave a small, bittersweet smile. So his feelings—long since memorized—hadn’t been noticed, after all.

***

Hwan slowly pressed the accelerator and said to Sa Seung-yeon:

“I delivered it to the manager.”

“Good.”

With that brief response, Sa Seung-yeon closed his eyes with earphones in.

That day, he’d stood outside Lee Il-seo’s apartment building for five hours. In that cursed area with zero parking, he’d ended up far from the building and simply waited for hours by the entrance.

When he finally spotted him returning home after nearly ten days of no contact, he felt like the emotions that had built up were about to explode. Lee Il-seo was walking around just fine, moving about normally. Though his steps were heavy and he looked somewhat tired, he didn’t seem incapable of making contact that required just the movement of a finger.

But the moment Lee Il-seo pulled out his smashed phone with an awkward look, the unpleasant emotions that had risen subsided like melting snow. There was evidence that he hadn’t chosen not to contact him, he couldn’t.

After that, he acted without thinking. Bought a phone. Picked one that matched Lee Il-seo’s schedule and habits—something easy for the notoriously lazy actor. It wasn’t much of a gift; he advertised the brand anyway. But handing it over personally? That would have felt too revealing. So, he sent it through Hwan.

Shortly after they set off, a text message arrived.

“Thank you, senior. I’m not good with words, so I don’t know how to express my gratitude. I’m truly thankful.”

He replied with a brief:

“Use it well.”

No more messages came after that. But strangely, he didn’t feel that old ache—the yearning. Now that the drama had become a surprise hit, joint schedules kept piling up. Even if he’d given the gift from afar, he still saw Lee Il-seo almost every day.

He had expected Director Chae Geum-soo’s work to generate buzz, but he hadn’t anticipated this level of response. Perhaps due to the mature content, provocative story, and shocking ending, many people continued to obsess over the drama long after the finale aired.

If he was surprised, then Lee Il-seo, who’d spent four years unknown, must have felt like he was dreaming. In every interview, he repeated the same line: ‘It still doesn’t feel real. I can’t believe it. It’s like a dream’. His wide, frozen eyes and the faint tremble in his voice made it obvious just how overwhelmed and genuinely happy he was, even if he usually masked his emotions like armor.

Today, there was a photoshoot for a fashion brand. Lee Il-seo did his individual shoot first, followed by Sa Seung-yeon.

After finishing his shoot and entering the waiting room, Sa Seung-yeon lazily surveyed the back of someone sitting upright in a chair. Wearing wired earphones, he didn’t seem to notice Sa Seung-yeon’s presence and was looking at his phone.

During the filming of the drama, he used to read scripts like textbooks or quietly bury himself in a novel during breaks. Lately, though, he has spent more time looking at his phone. It had been nice watching him flip through books with that impassive expression of his—but somehow, it was just as pleasant seeing him cradle the phone Sa Seung-yeon had bought for him.

“…”

Just then, there was a knock from outside, along with a message to prepare for the final shoot. They had only been resting while the set was being adjusted, so they needed to leave right away. But the person sitting nearby remained completely still and quiet.

Sa Seung-yeon’s jet-black eyes turned to the side. Lee Il-seo was dozing off with his neck bent in an uncomfortable position. He seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep, as his breathing grew heavier with each step Sa Seung-yeon took toward him.

Amid the unguarded breathing, a faint scent was perceptible. Sa Seung-yeon’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was a familiar body scent that had subtly lingered beneath his nose throughout the shoot.

Today, though, it was stronger. The refreshing, sun-warmed fruitiness had bloomed, likely from the tangerines in season, and clung to the air like something primal. A fragrance so distinct, it might as well have been pheromones.

Even while dozing off, he was firmly gripping his phone, and on the screen was a video playing:

‘Learn the sweet features of the latest model SXX PRO—miss out at your own risk’

The moment he spotted the subtitle, Sa Seung-yeon couldn’t hold back a low laugh. When they went to the reed field before, Lee Il-seo’s phone was clearly an outdated smartphone model that had been discontinued. There must be many new functions to learn. He had wondered what Lee Il-seo was doing so quietly, but the young man’s behavior was just like an old person’s.

Sa Seung-yeon reached out and gently gripped the back of Lee Il-seo’s neck, pressing his warm skin. He removed one of the earphones, revealing the fine downy hair on his small ear, then tilted his head and murmured:

“Time for the shoot.”

“Mmm…”

It must have been quite a deep sleep, as he opened his eyes groggily with a moan. Then, belatedly startled, he hurriedly stood up.

“Oh.”

He immediately swayed, knees buckling slightly. Wincing with one eye closed, he reached blindly for the chair. Sa Seung-yeon stepped in just in time, catching him by the forearm. And in that brief contact, he felt it—Lee Il-seo had lost weight. More than he’d expected.

“Are you okay?”

“Ah, yes.”

Then he quickly created distance between them. Sa Seung-yeon looked at Lee Il-seo in bewilderment as he moved away abruptly, as if avoiding someone, and in the meantime, Lee Il-seo walked toward the door first.

The final joint photoshoot was blatant from the props. A bed and dim lighting were set up, and Sa Seung-yeon wore a tight turtleneck and black jeans that hugged his thighs. In contrast, Lee Il-seo came out wearing only a loose vest, and seemingly embarrassed himself, he hesitated with his arms awkwardly crossed.

“Sa Seung-yeon, please lie down comfortably, and Lee Il-seo, could you kneel on the bed? Yes, like that, as if you’re trapping Sa Seung-yeon with your thighs.”

“Yes.”

Lee Il-seo positioned himself above Sa Seung-yeon, who was already stretched out on the bed. The mood of the shoot was turning more provocative than expected—sensual, bordering on decadent. While adjusting to the photographer’s cues, Lee Il-seo lost his balance briefly. The mattress, softer than it looked, sank beneath him.

“Oh…”

To avoid falling, he pressed his palms down, but both hands landed on Sa Seung-yeon’s chest. Sa Seung-yeon’s lips curved into a relaxed smile as he saw Lee Il-seo looking even more startled by his own action.

“What’s with you? Since earlier.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

The situation ended as Lee Il-seo quickly apologized and lifted himself, but Sa Seung-yeon’s expression instead hardened. As Lee Il-seo staggered to his feet, his loose vest revealed his bare body completely. The pale nipples, thin waist, and small navel—everything.

Naturally, none of the marks he had greedily left remained. In that brief moment, an image of sinking his canines into that pale skin flashed through his mind. With an unconscious impulse, Sa Seung-yeon deliberately contained his pheromones that were about to sharpen and adjusted his posture according to the director’s instructions.

Maybe it was because he’d already seen the bare body once, but from then on, every outfit Lee Il-seo wore struck Sa Seung-yeon as inappropriate. A shirt that clung to his silhouette and revealed just a hint of his nipples beneath sheer fabric. Shorts so brief that the slightest leg lift offered a glimpse of the crease at his inner thigh. Each scene, each pose, Sa Seung-yeon couldn’t help but notice. The slender body. That ripe, tangerine-sweet scent. And how often it came far too close.