TBM Vol 4 Part 2

Somewhere in Gyeonggi Province, at a quiet filming location, Sa Seung-yeon stepped out of the van parked by the building entrance.

A quick glance at his watch revealed his flustered expression—he was nearly twenty minutes late. This was because traffic had been completely blocked due to an accident, making him nearly 20 minutes late. His long legs moved with wide strides as he went inside.

He wasted no time. After changing into costume and touching up his makeup, he quickly received the filming brief and hurried to the set. Everything was already in place. Filming was set to begin immediately.

“…”

Sa Seung-yeon’s gaze lingered briefly in one spot. Far away, under the lights, Lee Il-seo was sitting in a chair. Sa Seung-yeon glanced at his profile briefly before turning to the staff.

“I’m sorry for being late.”

“Oh, it’s fine. If you’re ready, we’ll start filming right away!”

“Yes.”

There was no time to greet Lee Il-seo properly. He gave him a small bow, and he responded with a quick lift of his brow before taking his mark across from him.

“Both of you face each other, and we’ll do one rehearsal shot.”

Lee Il-seo was sitting down, looking up at Sa Seung-yeon, who was standing. Following the director’s guidance, his clear eyes gazed directly at him. Only now could he properly look at Lee Il-seo’s face; his eyes were slightly more swollen than usual, but otherwise, there wasn’t much difference. Nevertheless, Sa Seung-yeon momentarily felt as if he were caught by those eyes.

“…”

“…”

The sound of the shutter clicking snapped Sa Seung-yeon back to reality, and the actual shooting began. Unlike yesterday, when he couldn’t control his surging emotions, Lee Il-seo’s gaze toward him now was simply plain.

“Good!”

Perhaps because he was definitely a quick learner, unlike before when he had been awkward with photo shoots, he now engaged with a variety of expressions and gestures. Just then, the director, looking through the camera, said to Lee Il-seo:

“Il-seo, would you try leaning in completely?”

Without hesitation, the small man nestled into his arms. Like a child seeking warmth, he pressed his cheek to his chest and circled his waist with his arms, resting his weight on him. Despite the closeness, he felt so light that he feared he might embrace him too tightly without meaning to.

“Good. From there, just look at the camera lens.”

“Like this?”

His voice, soft and close, vibrated faintly where their skin met. The proximity was startling. His breath hitched as the camera clicked, then left him in a hush of exhale, the faint scent of ripe fruit curling in the space between them.

Sa Seung-yeon had been worried about how to face him today, with the memory of his hurt expression from yesterday occasionally surfacing, but Lee Il-seo was no different from usual, making his concerns seem unnecessary.

He asked the director questions with earnest precision, listened carefully to feedback, and gave each new take his all. Despite being rejected, he maintained quiet professionalism. Watching him, Sa Seung-yeon’s expression softened.

“Sa Seung-yeon, that natural smile is good. Let’s go with that.”

Realizing through the photographer that he was smiling, Sa Seung-yeon’s eyes narrowed slightly before returning to their original size.

“Thank you for your hard work. We’ll proceed with the interview after a 30-minute break!”

The shoot had wrapped without a hitch. The interview to follow would be a video segment for MonTube. As he flipped through the Q&A sheet he’d received in advance, a familiar restlessness stirred. He stepped out for a smoke.

As he was coming back in after smoking in the outdoor smoking area, Sa Seung-yeon discovered Lee Il-seo standing still in front of a glass window in a corner of the first floor of the building.

Bathed in the pale winter sunlight, he stood motionless. The light streamed in around him, turning him into something almost ethereal—like a wildflower kissed by morning dew.

He stared out the window, lost in thought, unaware that Sa Seung-yeon was watching.

Unconsciously, Sa Seung-yeon’s steps led him toward Lee Il-seo.

– You spent it with me… The rut.

– I can’t refuse when you ask me to come.

– Because it’s someone I like… I could bear it.

All night, he had replayed his words, his face, his voice. He remembered how he’d flinched the day before at his slightest touch, shoulders curling inward like he expected harm. It wasn’t the first time. When he’d once shown up unannounced at his place after he’d gone silent, he’d flinched the same way—his body braced, fearful.

It was natural to wonder if he might have raised his hand against Lee Il-seo. But there was no meaningful clue that emerged from his fragmentary memories.

The fact that he couldn’t quite remember made him more anxious and angry. It might be called a rut, but from Lee Il-seo’s perspective, wasn’t it rape? If only Lee Il-seo would get angry and pour out his resentment, but the young man who always carried the words ‘it’s okay’ on his lips couldn’t even fully express the wounds and emotions he had received, and instead blurted out an apology.

– No, I was wrong. I was being dramatic.

People fall in love. That’s all. He didn’t want to hear him say he was wrong, not with that trembling voice, not with tears forming behind a smile at the end of his confession. If Lee Il-seo, who was a good person, had liked someone other than him, he would have surely received a lot of love. Because it would be difficult not to like someone so kind and charming.

Lee Il-seo was still looking out the window. Since they had agreed not to be uncomfortable with each other, he wanted to casually ask if he was feeling better, or if he was having a hard time, to comfort him. But as he walked a bit closer, he could finally read Lee Il-seo’s expression.

His eyebrows were drooping downward, and his face, which was already pale, had turned even more ghastly. His eyes, which had become clear in the light, were paradoxically empty, unable to hold anything.

Lee Il-seo was not okay. He wasn’t fine. He wasn’t calm. He was unraveling in silence. And at that moment, Sa Seung-yeon couldn’t say a word. He turned away, afraid that even acknowledgment might shatter him.

***

The interview was halfway through. Lee Il-seo, now radiant as he’d been during the shoot, wore a bright expression that masked whatever Sa Seung-yeon had witnessed at the window. But Sa Seung-yeon couldn’t shake it. The image of his hollow eyes gnawed at his composure.

The reporter, smiling brightly, turned a page of the question sheet and spoke.

“We usually define first love in two ways. Literally, the ‘first’ person you liked, or the first person you loved ‘sincerely’. In the latter sense, I think Haru and Tae-hyun might be each other’s first love.”

Sa Seung-yeon and Lee Il-seo nodded at the same pace.

“If it’s not too intrusive, could you tell us about your own first loves?”

They exchanged similarly hesitant smiles. The question had been vetted in advance, but saying it aloud brought a strange awkwardness.

Following the interview order, Sa Seung-yeon spoke first.

“This might sound a bit strange, but it was someone I didn’t know.”

“Someone you didn’t know? Your first love was someone you didn’t know?”

“Yes. I’ve never mentioned this anywhere before. Haha.”

“Wow, an exclusive for Elle Korea! First-time story, everyone!”

Of course, that boy—nameless, faceless—was a brief, unspoken memory. An anonymous presence from the past, erased as quickly as he’d appeared. Since debuting, he had never shared that vulnerable piece of himself.

But now, a question about first love had been asked during an interview with Lee Il-seo. He wanted to talk about it at least once while beside Lee Il-seo, who had stood at the center of all exceptions and variables. It was his own attempt to draw a clear line regarding the uncomfortable situations that had arisen from the mixing of the boy and Lee Il-seo in his mind at random times.

He could feel Lee Il-seo, who had said he was his fan, looking in his direction, perhaps finding the story interesting. It wasn’t particularly pleasant to bring up the topic of first love next to someone he had just rejected.

“It was back when personal homepages were a thing. Someone had uploaded a video anonymously. After watching it, I felt… Butterflies.”

The end of his voice trembled slightly, unintentionally. He turned his head to wet his throat with some water, and by then, Lee Il-seo had already lowered his gaze diagonally downward. His face wasn’t clearly visible, making it difficult to read his thoughts.

“Wow, that’s fascinating. So you felt the emotion of first love without actually dating? Just from a video?”

“Yes, in a way, it was an intense one-sided love.”

At the word ‘one-sided love’, Lee Il-seo’s neatly placed fingers twitched slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice. Lee Il-seo clenched his fist, and the reporter, who had given a sympathetic reaction, passed the next question to Sa Seung-yeon.

“How did you realize your feelings for someone you had never met?”

“Suddenly.”

After a brief pause, Sa Seung-yeon continued softly.

“Suddenly, repeatedly. The thoughts kept coming without interruption.”

“…”

“It wasn’t intense, but it also never faded away. That’s how  I realized later that it was love.”

His voice was calm but slightly subdued as he traced through his memories. The reporter asked Sa Seung-yeon,

“Given that your realization came late, it seems like it was an awkward emotion from your youth?”

Sa Seung-yeon laughed silently.

“I was very young.”

Both physically and mentally. That’s why it was pure and equally reckless.

“Have you ever thought about finding this person?”

“I did, but that desire disappeared.”

Though he was smiling, his voice was quite resolute.

“They say memories become beautified. Looking back, only the good memories remained. I just want to leave it as it is.”

The reporter clapped softly in agreement, and Lee Il-seo responded with a faint nod and a slight smile. Every word had struck true. Somehow, he found himself quietly envying this nameless, faceless figure. If that person still occasionally crossed Sa Seung-yeon’s mind, perhaps he wouldn’t have turned him down so coldly.

“It’s like a special first love, like a scene from a movie. Now I’m curious about Lee Il-seo’s story too.”

The reporter smiled brightly and made eye contact with Lee Il-seo while asking,

“What kind of person was your first love, Lee Il-seo?”

Lee Il-seo touched his lips momentarily. His neatly trimmed fingernails carefully brushed his lips, and then a small voice flowed out.

“It was a senior from school.”

Perhaps recalling that time, his chocolate-colored eyes, momentarily lost in thought, sparkled beautifully as if moist.

“Mmm. They were the object of admiration for all students. Really cool and always shining. The kind of person you couldn’t help but like. Probably most people besides me liked them too.”

“Oh! I get a sense of what style they were. Perhaps it was more like admiration?”

“Though that wasn’t entirely absent, it was definitely love.”

He clasped his hands together, pressing them firmly as if grounding himself in the memory. Despite the years that had passed, he looked bashful, like it had happened just yesterday.

“I was going through a rough time back then. But one day, they spoke to me with such warmth… My heart just raced.”

“…”

“That one moment—it gave me so much strength. Without that senior, I probably wouldn’t have debuted at all.”

Lee Il-seo smiled, his eyes crinkling with the weight of gratitude. But even as he spoke, Sa Seung-yeon’s fingers twitched slightly, a silent reaction.

-You have been a great source of strength for me, senior.

It was the same as what he had said to him, claiming to be a fan. Sa Seung-yeon reflexively turned his head to look at Lee Il-seo. Lee Il-seo, who had been smiling, felt Sa Seung-yeon’s gaze and carefully erased his smile.

“So, did you succeed in a sweet romance with this wonderful person?”

Lee Il-seo bit the soft flesh of his lip and answered softly with a faint smile.

“No, I was rejected.”

“Oh no. Did you cry?”

Lee Il-seo, seemingly embarrassed, covered his mouth with his palm and lowered his eyebrows.

“A little, really just a little.”

He tried to laugh it off, holding up his fingers to show how small ‘a little’ was, but Sa Seung-yeon clenched his jaw without meaning to. During his school days, and even just yesterday, his one-sided loves always seemed to end the same way. Knowing he had become another scar on that list unsettled him.

Perhaps because he had seen his hurt face yesterday, it was easier to imagine a younger Lee Il-seo getting hurt and crying. He felt inexplicably resentful and annoyed at the object of Lee Il-seo’s past one-sided love.

The reporter, looking at both of them, made a short sound of distress.

“Such bittersweet stories from both of you. Maybe that’s why you portray Haru and Tae-hyun’s imperfect love so convincingly.”

At that moment, the reporter requested an impromptu video message from Lee Il-seo.

“Our Lee Il-seo is so successful and charming now. How about a quick message? Just a little something, even now?”

Lee Il-seo hesitated with reddened ears, looking embarrassed, but eventually couldn’t refuse and swallowed hard. His slightly more serious eyes stared at the camera.

“I loved you very much.”

After saying it in a plain voice, he ended up fanning his face busily over his cheeks, looking awkward and embarrassed. Sa Seung-yeon smiled mechanically, but somehow Lee Il-seo’s final words seemed to linger in his ears for a long time.

Just as Lee Il-seo had put closure on his past love, he would probably organize his feelings for him in the same way. It felt like he had peeked at an expression he didn’t need to see and overheard a voice he didn’t want to hear. Feeling an inexplicable bitterness, Sa Seung-yeon touched his ear and slowly smoothed out the frown he had unconsciously made.

The rest of the interview flowed smoothly, and the shooting was soon completed.