Set to Fail // Minsung (BOOK 1 OF 2 'SET SERIES')

STF 02

Jisung didn't think he could be this nervous.

But there he was, standing in front of a wall-length mirror, one boot on, yanking at the other like it personally offended him, wearing the kind of blank, slightly dead-eyed expression you only get when you haven't had enough sleep or therapy. The costume looked good. Better than expected. But that didn't matter when his stomach felt like a washing machine filled with bricks and nerves and self-doubt.

"You okay?" one of the stylists asked gently, tugging at the sleeve of his outfit.

"Yeah," jisung lied, voice too even to be believable.

She didn't push. Just gave him a look that said she knew he was full of shit but wasn't paid enough to fix it.

The fitting was happening on one of the smaller backlots. Solo fittings first, then the co-leads, then everyone else. Jisung had asked to come early, told his manager he didn't wanna deal with the full crowd, but the real reason? He didn't wanna run into minho. Not yet. Not while his brain was still chewing on everything that hadn't been said.

Because of course minho was gonna be here today. Of course, the same guy who skipped the read and left jisung spiralling for a full twenty-four hours was now gonna show up all smiles and professionalism, acting like nothing happened, like he didn't single-handedly ruin Jisung's sanity with one absence.

And the worst part? Jisung still kinda wanted to see him.
Not because he missed him. Not because he cared.

Just... To prove to himself that he wasn't intimidated. That Minho was just another actor and not this looming presence jisung had somehow built up in his head like a boss level he didn't know how to beat.

He was still adjusting his collar, pulling it into place and trying to look like he belonged in it, when the entire room shifted. Like a gust of wind nobody could see but everyone felt. Murmurs at the door. Camera crew adjusting. Someone whispered, "he's here," and suddenly everyone had somewhere to look.

Jisung didn't turn. Didn't need to. He felt it like a change in gravity.

Lee minho walked in like he owned the air. Tall, not skyscraper tall, but tall enough to make jisung want to stand straighter... At least dude was taller than Jisung himself, cat-eyed, dressed in casual black joggers and a sweatshirt that said Mahagrid in stylized block letters like he was in a brand deal.

His cold brew looked stupidly aesthetic. His hair was swept back with that annoying effortless vibe that made jisung want to scream. He looked like he belonged on the cover of something expensive, something Jisung couldn't afford.

And yeah. Of course. He was looking right at him.

Minho smiled. Not big, not flashy. Just soft. Quiet. A little like he was testing the waters.

Jisung stared too long, caught himself, then looked away fast enough to pretend it didn't happen.

"Hey," minho said, closer now, voice low and careful.

Jisung didn't flinch. Didn't smile either. Just gave a nod, eyes on the mirror. "Hi."

"I missed the read," minho added, a little hesitant. "sorry about that."

"It's fine," jisung said, too quick, too clean. "don't worry about it."

He kept adjusting his sleeve, pretending it suddenly needed attention, pretending it was the most fascinating piece of fabric he'd ever seen. Minho stayed there a second longer, like he wanted to say something else, but a stylist waved him over.

"We're ready for your fitting too, minho-ssi."

"Yeah," minho replied, glancing back at jisung like there was unfinished business. "I'll just..." but jisung was already walking away.