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

STF 07

for the first time in weeks, jisung didn't feel like he was falling behind. not dramatically, at least.

his acting wasn't perfect, but it was smoother. the lines came quicker. the tension didn't curl so tightly in his chest before each take. he was laughing again. a little too loud. a little too often. but no one seemed to notice the difference. or maybe... they noticed but didn't care.

"let's go again. scene nineteen. from jaewon's entrance," the director called.

jisung took his mark. minho joined him a second later, adjusting the collar on his costume.

"you ready?" minho asked, voice quiet between them.

"yeah," jisung said, nodding.

minho gave him a tiny smile, barely there, but there ... and looked away.

the scene rolled like silk. they were in sync now. more than before. every line between jaewon and eunjo landed the way it was supposed to, and every beat in between, the eye contact, the pauses, the slight stumbles... felt less like acting and more like breathing.

jisung found himself glancing at minho even after "cut" was called. found himself remembering little things. like the way minho always had a hand near his lower back in crowded blocking scenes, guiding him gently without ever really touching. or the way minho tilted his head to the side when he listened — like he was giving you the whole room. or how he always said you did well after a hard scene, even if no one else did.

tiny things. things he shouldn't be thinking about. but he did.

tuesday, lunch break. the sun hit the courtyard behind the studio just right, casting long golden rays over the crew. some staff were lounging under umbrellas, others scattered across the grass.

jisung sat under the tree by the fence, picking at the corner of his script. he didn't expect minho to sit beside him. but he did. didn't say anything. just... sat.

they shared a water bottle wordlessly. minho leaned back on his elbows. jisung, watching the way the light hit his jawline, nearly forgot how to breathe. he didn't say a word about it. neither did minho.

----

scene twenty-three: eunjo and jaewon sit under the city lights. eunjo finally admits he doesn't believe he's capable of being loved.

line thirteen (lm): "maybe love doesn't need to ask permission."

they weren't filming today — just reading through. practice. still, when minho said that line, eyes locked on jisung's, something strange fluttered low in jisung's chest. he almost didn't recover the next line.

after they finished, he stayed sitting cross-legged on the set's edge. minho didn't leave.

"want ramen?" he asked, digging two instant cups out of his bag.

jisung blinked. "you brought ramen?"

"i always bring ramen."

"why have i never seen you eat it?"

"i eat it in secret so no one judges me."

jisung laughed. like, really laughed. minho smiled. like maybe that was the whole goal.

they ate together that night, legs barely brushing. not talking much. comfortable silence. jisung went home wondering when silence had started to feel like safety.

thursday brought rain. the studio was humid, actors half-sweating in costume, and jisung was grumpy. until they filmed the scene under the awning- eunjo and jaewon caught in the rain, stuck close together, breath warm between them. it wasn't romantic yet. just a moment.

but minho's hand brushed his cheek lightly in the scene. too light.

"cut."

jisung blinked hard. his heart thudded louder than the rain machine.

"good scene," the director said. "you guys are starting to get the rhythm."

minho looked at him, just briefly. and smiled.

jisung felt himself blush all the way into his ears.

friday, seungmin caught him staring. they were in the dressing room. minho was across the room stretching his arms behind his head, shirt slightly tugged up. jisung's eyes flicked there. for maybe two seconds.

seungmin looked at him with a smile. "wow."

jisung instantly understood where this was going and yelled, "shut up."

"he's literally just standing there."

"i said shut up."

"i didn't say it was bad."

jisung kicked him lightly under the makeup counter.

that night, jisung lay in bed staring at the ceiling. minho's face kept flashing in his head. not in dramatic slow-mo. not filtered by camera lenses or lighting. just him... laughing quietly, looking at jisung with soft eyes, smiling like it meant something.

you did well.

want ramen?

maybe love doesn't need to ask permission.

he squeezed his eyes shut. this was stupid. this was dangerous. this was—

he rolled over and screamed into his pillow.