And Hikaru. Hi-fucking-Karu. JieMi's grip tightened over his arm as he stared at the scene. The rippling veil was all artistic direction, shielding everything that could be lewd. And there was nothing much to the scene, no actual fucking, no hip thrusts or nudity, just the briefest shadows of arched backs and rippling muscles. Just the briefest hints of implied sexual activity.
But it was a pain to watch her sit over his naked chest and pretend as their eldest blushed and flushed with streaks of gold over their skin. A mirror image that turned her into a brighter star. It was a pain to watch Hikaru kiss her and their fingers lace together in a hold that was meant only for lovers. It was a pain to watch them laugh as the director encouraged their love. It ended with just a brief image of their naked backs, of sleeping Hikaru with his arm around her. The aftermath of a night of sex. But it was torture to—
"JieMi?" JieMi snapped up at the sound of the director's voice, his eyes blinking rapidly, shocking the makeup artists who were working on preparing his face for the shoot. He didn't even notice they were there, so engrossed in his need to watch. And he stared at them all, noting the pity in the eyes of the makeup artists. They must have seen the tear tracts that cascaded down his cheeks, evidence of his feelings. There was a flash of embarrassment that blossomed in his heart, and then a wave of heat.
It enraged him.
"Yeah, I'm here."
He cleared his throat, stepping into the light and it was then when Amber looked at him. Her eyes drifting over his face, begging to lock together with his. He refused to look at her then, carefully avoiding her gaze. But that didn't mean his body didn't burn with awareness, that his heart didn't feel so exposed and vulnerable. That he didn't tremble with something he didn't understand.
No, he did understand. He had just been pretending not to.
"I want you to go to the door and open it. You're supposed to be horrified, maybe even disgusted. It's up to you, JieMi, but in this scene you're seeing your brother fall for someone that you have a crush on." JieMi stiffened at his words, muscles going taught." But the key is that you don't know that you like her, but what you do know is that you preferred life before the seven kings met her. Understand—"
How fitting.
"Yeah, I read the brief." JieMi cut him off, shielding his eyes from the light. He avoided looking at the two on the bed, nearly tripping over a random prop. Her fucking bra, or was it Hikaru's pants? He cursed, waving his hand to tell everyone that he was okay before stepping to the door. He vaguely heard the director calling, repeating more words to help him but JieMi wasn't listening to him, not with how loudly his heart thundered in his ears. Not with the pants of his breath echoing in his head, not with his mind filled with her.
HER HER HER HER HER HER.
AMBER.
I WISH.
I WISH YOU AND I WERE...
I WISH I WASN'T...
I WISH I MET...
I WISH I WERE...
He managed to register the word 'ACTION' somehow, and he pushed open the door, eyes flickering over everything, and then he froze. His eyes were unseeing, unable to look, unable to see, unable to meet her eyes, unable to meet their eyes. He didn't want to see. Not with how he...He...
"CUT! JieMi, can we do that again? You're..." He nodded closing the door, and then exhaled heavily, clenching his fist so tight that pain shot through his arm, sharp and hard. It stole a gasp from his lips, and he stepped out again.
They repeated it ten more times, then fifty, and JieMi exhaled as the director shook his head showing them the shoot through a screen. It was horrible, his face was blank, stunned and slack. There were times when he managed to look horrified, but then it would fall into a confusing mix of expressions. Things that he hoped they didn't understand, things that he understood. The flicker of warmth, the dance of pain, the edge of hurt. Fuck. He pursed his lips.
"Maybe we shouldn't include this scene, I know you're not a professional actor but..."
"I can do it." He gritted out; jaws clenched so hard that his teeth hurt. "I can do it, I just need—"
What did he need?
"Director." He froze at the sound of her voice, low and smooth, sweet and gentle. It was a hand to his fleshy heart, a hand to his cock, jerking, jerking, jerking. It was a hand to his cheek, to his lips. JieMi, it said, JieMi. "I can tell him to look at me when he enters? I could catch his attention, would that help?"
They were talking and JieMi glanced up, eyes snapped to her face to the curve of her cheeks, to the sweetness, to the warmth. And his nose twitched, lips so dry that he had to lick it. He looked away when her gaze darted to his, heart screaming each damn beat, so damn loud he was sure she could see it in his chest, begging to be with her.
His heart was desperate.
"We can do it again," the director agreed, and JieMi was lifeless when he stepped back towards the door, and then her hand was on his. A jerk to his senses, electricity to his veins, life to his heart. He turned, emotions so thick in his throat that it was beating to the sound of his heart, on the verge of vomiting, at the edge of his tongue.
Please.
He felt sick, so damn sick.
"JieMi," she whispered and his eyes were on her amber ones. "Is this because of that day?" Her brows crinkled and he had to blink again so that he wouldn't be bewitched by her. He had to look again, so that he wouldn't lean closer. He had to...Had to. "Are you distracted because of what we did together?"
No, maybe yes? His lips twitched and she took it as his agreement. Her expression falling, her eyes sad.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I won't do it again; we won't do it again. Okay? I promise, I'll stay away. I promise I won't touch you again. I promise that I'll leave you alone. Okay?" And JieMi was swallowed by the sound of something cracking, by the sound of something falling, of the world rushing and rushing and rushing. And, she closed the door and he was left staring at the wood.
And something took a hold of him.
He pushed open the door, knuckles knocking against the wood, so hard that it bruised. And he looked at her then, horrified, shocked, impossibly broken. He stared at her then, watched as Hikaru shifted to wrap his arms around her frame, press a kiss to her shoulder. And he watched as she smiled and he... He...
"CUT! That was perfect! JieMi! That was amazing!"
He didn't need to look at the monitor to know that there were tears in his eyes, he didn't need to look at the monitor to know that he was breaking. He didn't need to look at the monitor to know that he was hopelessly, utterly, irrevocably...
His heart was hurt.
They made him jump through over the building three times, made him swing lifelessly against a green screen. They made him twist a knife between his fingers, dipped in red liquid, they made him pretend to break with fake rain dripping down his back and through his hair. But what they didn't know was that he was broken. And he was dying, dying, dying.
They didn't know that the reason why his acting was amazing was because it was real.
And the jump had been painfully realistic, painfully euphoric, painfully...
Necessary.