By Zephyria 
My hands trembled more than during the script reading, more than when placing meat on the grill.
Yoon Joo-ho looked down at his trembling hands as he poured the drinks and smiled faintly.
“This time, don’t spill it on my clothes.”
Wow… Yoon Joo-ho, he really holds a grudge.
He glanced up, and his face was smiling as if he was amused. When expressionless, he looked like a pale vampire or a frozen human. But with that expression, he looked like an annoying middle schooler in their rebellious phase who wouldn’t listen to anything.
“Baek Kang, Lee San. Sharing the first drink.”
At Shin Hyo-jin’s voice, I turned to look. She was smiling, looking at her phone screen. On the back of the phone, the camera lens was pointed at Song Hyun-soo and Yoon Joo-ho. Click.
“Look. They’re totally Baek Kang and Lee San. Nice casting.”
On the screen she showed, Yoon Joo-ho and Song Hyun-soo were looking straight ahead side-by-side. One held a soju glass, the other a soju bottle. One had perfectly styled hair and wore a luxurious black knit, while the other had hair he’d blow-dried while watching YouTube and wore a sweatshirt bought from an online shopping mall.
Despite the sudden photo, there was no trace of humiliation on Yoon Joo-ho. He looked exactly as he did in candid photos and videos, with that unreal appearance one sees when meeting him in person.
“Baek Kang is Sani’s older brother, his friend, his hero, and honestly, almost his first love. But in this photo, Sani looks intimidated, no matter how I look at it.”
As Song Hyun-soo spoke sulkily, Yoon Joo-ho’s arm suddenly rested on his shoulder.
“…”
When his hand touched mine, my heart had shrunk, but this time, my shrunken heart swelled up all at once as if it would explode. It felt like a heart-shaped balloon would pop out of my chest, like in a cartoon.
Right next to my face, Yoon Joo-ho said casually.
“When Kang-i found out he killed his father, Sani must have been intimidated too.”
His words didn’t reach my brain. All my nerves were focused on the shoulder where his arm was resting.
“Senior, stop teasing Sani. Treat him more like Kang-i does. If Sani is intimidated by Kang-i, filming will be difficult.”
At Shin Hyo-jin’s words, Yoon Joo-ho tilted his head towards Song Hyun-soo.
He slightly lifted his chin and gazed at me for a moment from under his lowered eyelids. Because of the way his arm was draped over my shoulder, the distance was excessively close. I didn’t know if it was a look with intent, or if it felt intentional because of Yoon Joo-ho’s dramatic features. It was a gaze that could have led to countless misunderstandings and misinterpretations from many people of the opposite sex.
If I were a woman, I would have definitely misinterpreted that look. Thinking Yoon Joo-ho was interested in me.
Yoon Joo-ho, meeting my gaze with a moist look that was full of potential for misunderstanding, shook his head with a crooked smile.
“I don’t think he’s particularly intimidated by me?”
“No, he is. You’re scary, Senior. You saw my hands shaking earlier.”
The acting skill required to say that as if it were nothing was immense. Yoon Joo-ho, who had lived as a top star his whole life, would never know.
“If a truly scary senior were in front of you? You wouldn’t even be able to speak. That’s what happened to me.”
Yoon Joo-ho removed his arm from my shoulder and poured himself another drink.
“But Hyo-jin, you’re not planning to post that photo anywhere, are you? Like on social media.”
“Huh? Is that not allowed? I was thinking of posting it next week when the casting news for you and Hyun-soo comes out.”
As he brought the glass to his lips, Yoon Joo-ho said.
“My face doesn’t look good.”
“Doesn’t look good?? Where?”
The words came out almost reflexively. Only after noticing everyone’s gaze fixed on his face did Song Hyun-soo feel regret.
Yoon Joo-ho, who had paused his drink, also looked back at Song Hyun-soo with a puzzled expression. Then, a moment later, he chuckled. He threw his head back and downed the glass in one go. His profile, from his forehead and the bridge of his nose to his lips and Adam’s apple, was picturesque.
Thinking I had been staring blankly, Song Hyun-soo subtly turned his head. As naturally as possible, as if he were looking around the place and Yoon Joo-ho just happened to come into view.
Even if he had confessed to being a fan of Yoon Joo-ho, he didn’t want others to know. He had often said he was a fan to seniors as a courtesy. He had never felt guilty even if it wasn’t true, nor had his pride been hurt. That was just ‘lip service’ to make them feel good.
But because it was genuine, he didn’t want to express it lightly. He wanted to avoid being treated like a middle schooler with a crush on a student teacher, with people saying, ‘Hyun-soo said he was Joo-ho Sunbae’s fan.’
The restaurant grew noisier by the minute. With a group of about thirty people drinking, it was understandable.
In one corner of the restaurant, a mini fan meeting for Yoon Joo-ho was being held. Although the restaurant was practically booked by the
Han Joo-young, who had recently started appearing in various places, also had decent popularity. He was the type to approach people boldly and even suggested taking photos first.
However, it was rare for people to ask for photos with an unknown actor who had no signature work.
Song Hyun-soo pushed the cooked meat to the edge of the grill. As he placed new meat in the empty spot, he glanced at the table opposite him. One of the production company staff was next in line and standing next to Yoon Joo-ho.
“Can I link arms?”
To her childlike, excited question, Yoon Joo-ho curved his arm to make space. Standing next to Yoon Joo-ho with her arm linked, she looked like someone at the peak of happiness.
It was then that Song Hyun-soo recognized her.
‘You can go to the second-floor conference room.’
It was the staff member who had responded with a vacant expression when he asked for the script reading location upon arriving at the production company office that day. She was completely different now, full of life. Thanks to Yoon Joo-ho, she had found her lost spirit.
What would it feel like to make someone that happy just by taking a picture together, without me having to do anything? It was a question that Song Hyun-soo, in his current state, couldn’t answer.
“The meat looks like it’s burning.”
Song Hyun-soo almost dropped the tongs because Yoon Joo-ho returned to the seat next to him. Song Hyun-soo hurriedly turned down the heat and flipped the meat.
“Let’s stop grilling. Everyone seems to be drinking anyway.”
“S- Shall we?”
It seemed the fan meeting had ended while he was spacing out for a moment.
“It’s all burnt. This is inedible.”
Yoon Joo-ho, who had switched from tongs to chopsticks to flip the meat, moved a piece of meat, black as coal, to the side. It was still fascinating to watch him drink soju and chew on galmaegisal, his face looking like he wouldn’t go to the bathroom, wouldn’t sleep, and wouldn’t sweat.
“It must be tiring.”
“What is?”
“Having mini fan meetings everywhere you go.”
Yoon Joo-ho, after downing another glass of soju, shrugged and said.
“It’s been my life since I was so young. If no one wanted to take pictures with me now, I think I’d hate that more.”
“That’s unexpected.”
“What is?”
“I thought you’d find things like taking photos bothersome.”
“I don’t always agree to it. I have my own work, and I’m not exactly free.”
“But you were very accommodating just now.”
“The morale of the production staff and crew is important.”
“…”
“There are many actors who think the project will succeed just by acting well in front of the camera.”
Yoon Joo-ho, after drinking another glass of soju, picked up a piece of galmaegisal that Song Hyun-soo had grilled and put it in his mouth. Unbeknownst to him, Song Hyun-soo had been pushing the better-grilled meat towards Yoon Joo-ho. Watching Yoon Joo-ho chew the meat he had grilled, a pleased smile involuntarily welled up. Realizing this, Song Hyun-soo soon scowled. Feeling pleased because the meat he grilled went into Yoon Joo-ho’s stomach. He wasn’t a stalker.
“Director! Please give us feedback on today’s reading!”
Han Joo-young, who had been boisterously socializing at the next table, shouted towards Director Jung Joon-hee as he returned to his seat. He had drunk quite a bit in the meantime, his slender face flushed red. Director Jeong asked with a smile.
“Feedback all of a sudden?”
“I heard something just now.”
“Haha, what did you hear?”
“They said you said it was good, well done, and that we shouldn’t believe all of it. That we’d draw blood on set. Please give us feedback.”
Han Joo-young clasped his hands together as if in prayer and bowed deeply. His Korean pronunciation, due to the alcohol, was even more slurred than before.