third person
genre: fluff, photographer au, ft. Felix Lee
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"One more!"
A quick, almost blinding flash came from the camera (Y/N) was holding as the female model smiled and did a pose.
"Perfect! It's a wrap!"
The staff moved around as two stylists ushered the girl to her designated dressing room, prepping her up for another shoot.
(Y/N) sighed and wiped away her sweat as her assistant, Felix, handed her a fresh cup of water. Accepting it gratefully, she gulped down the liquid, her dry throat enjoying the cold sensation.
"Boss said there's one more artist that we need to do," said Felix as he looked at his clipboard. "Apparently he's a new actor."
"Really now?" the girl said, adjusting her tripod as many other staff proceeded to disassemble and assemble the lights and all the equipment nedded for the next photoshoot.
In response, the assistant hummed. "His name's Lee Minho."
But before she could make another word, Felix cut her off, "No, not the Lee Minho in Boys Over Flowers, this one's younger." he leaned in closer to her and whispered, "he's your age."
(Y/N) pouted, "Alright. When is he due?"
Felix looked at his wristwatch, "An hour from now. We still need to put up the next set."
"Alright, just help the others put up the scene and I'll do the set up. Want me to grab coffee for you on my way out?" she offers.
"Yes please. I'm going to need a gallon of caffeine if I need to pull up an all-nighter," he pinches the bridge of his nose and yawns.
"Yup, I'm going to need a bunch of coffee."
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"(Y/N)?"
The girl turned around upon hearing her name, and another assistant of hers, who was actually her best friend and Felix's girlfriend, Paula, handed her a bouquet of dark pink roses and pointed to a marble vase placed on top of a wooden table at the set.
She nodded, arranging each flower stem by stem, until they were all sitting prettily inside the vase.
"Off the set!" (Y/N) heard Felix yell, and she walked over to him, behind the camera.
"So, just portrait shots? For the movie?" she asks.
"Yeah," he then turned to the direction where the director was sat, a baseball cap on his head and his face crinkled with an amused expression.
"Hair and makeup should be done by now!" Felix yells and scribbles some notes down on his clipboard.
A young man, dressed in a very elegant suit, emerged from one of the dressing rooms and walked over to where the set was located, seemingly engrossed in his own beauty, making a certain girl think that he couldn't remember the first time they met.
But, oh how wrong she was.
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Weeks before the shoot, (Y/N) boarded a train to head to work, and when she was sat on one of the seats, she saw a young man, perhaps around her age, standing with his hand gripping the metal bars of the train, an uninterested look on his handsome features.
She never had a strong will in destiny, nor she was a firm believer in love at first sight. Sure she had times when she was intrigued by the topic itself, but she thought it was only for kids who were hopeless romantics, a kind of force that only happens in cliche romance novels.
But there she was, staring at the nameless guy in front of her.
He was supposed to be another guy. Just another boy blending in with the crowd, someone she would see once and forget the next day, one of the million faces she unexpectedly sets her gaze without a name. Just another heart beating along with a thousand others along the busy streets of life.
But this was a different case.
At first he would look like a guy who doesn't give a shit about the world, but when their eyes met he smiled, his eyes crinkled into little crescent moons that held a sparkle of joy inside his dark yet captivating orbs.
Parted lips and hair covering the skins on their foreheads, a simple "hello" would've sufficed with meeting the stranger, but surprisingly words weren't needed at that time. As if their worlds had paused in revolving and the universe focused on the two of them.
What if she had said hello to him?
Fate was dumb, but he wanted her to believe in the magic.
(Y/N) was snapped back to reality when Felix had repeatedly used his fingers to click them in front of her face. With her hands, she shoved them away and held her camera, her precious baby that brings money and love to her life.
"Hey, that's Minho." he says and walks over to the man whose name was apparently Minho.
Minho. Lee Minho.
The same guy on the train.
Never she would've thought that the guy she smiled at on the train would be an actor, standing in front of her in an expensive outfit for a photoshoot.
"Hey, snap out of it," another voice says, and (Y/N) turns around to see Paula with a grinning face. "I know he's handsome and all but you don't have to stare at him that intense."
The director began to shout and wave at the staff as Minho proceeded to the set, his hand softly gripping the hem of his black suit and looking around, his big eyes gleaming with an emotion the girl would love to name.
With her camera gripped by her frail hands, (Y/N) ignored her friend's statement and focused on Minho. And when he turned his head, their eyes locked, their gazes falling onto one another.
His eyes flitted to hers, and his glossed lips curved up into a half amused, half intrigued smile. She knew he recognized her.
She knew.
"We're ready!" the director called, and (Y/N) went to her position behind the camera. With her right foot placed inches before her left, she held the camera up to her eye, the lens focusing on the model as Minho smiled.
She nearly dropped her camera when he smiled. It was like some type of magnet that pulls her to him, a type of drug that she can get addicted to and arrested for doing so.
He was so mysterious, yet so intriguing.
Her finger then moved, capturing the pitch perfect picture.
"Minho, crouch down on the floor with your arm over your knee," the director says, and without hesitation he quickly moves according to what he was instructed to do.
"(Y/N), mid shot!"
"Yes, director," her finger once again depressed the shutter, and the familiar click filled her ears.
A few more shots and the first half of the photoshoot was done. Time for lunch break.
Removing the strap around her neck, (Y/N) handed the director her camera and let him check the photos she took of Minho, entrusting Felix that he would keep her baby safe while she was out for lunch.
Minho got off the set, and his dark eyes met hers once more, that knowing smile still grazing his red lips. With a small nod, he walked away, heading to his designated dressing room to get out of the itchy suit he was forced to wear.
(Y/N) sighed. Calling out to Felix who was busy scolding a staffer, she left the building and went to the nearest fast food chain.
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What a tiring day, (Y/N) thought as she settled her tray of food down on her table, planting her butt on the wooden seat and taking a huge bite out of her burger. Looking out at the window beside her, memories of Minho filled her mind again.
Her mind wandered to when he smiled at the camera, but the way he did that she feels like that smile was directed at her, not at the camera, or not at anyone else.
Just her.
"Ah," she says to herself. "I need to finish eating quickly if I wanted to see him again."
And it was no doubt that she had seen him one more time. After the photoshoot.
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Sometime later, the shoot ended and people began packing, lining up to the exit door wanting to be in the warmth of their homes as soon as possible. Felix and Paula had already left, (Y/N) presumed that they have to go on a date after their jobs.
Time passes and there were less people at the set. Fumbling with the packing of her precious camera, she heard a voice behind her.
"Need some help?"
The camera would've fallen to the floor if it weren't for the strap hanging around her neck.
"No, I'm okay. Thanks for your concern."
Wow, (Y/N) thought. It surprised her that despite her heart beating erratically fast in her rib cage, she actually managed to spill out a sentence without messing up. She managed to get a few of her freshly manicured fingers to work around the cap and place it inside the bag, finally zipping it up.
"Okay," with the playful tone in his voice she could easily recognize the smirk on his face.
"Not to be rude or anything, but may I ask as to why you're here? Considering how late it is?"
She turned around to face him, and her eyes visibly widened at their close proximity, his minty breath was fanning her face, and she could smell his scent—he smelt of strawberries and vanilla.
"I was wondering if you wanted to grab a quick snack with me."
Dynamites. Bombs. Party poppers. Fireworks. Blasts. Something inside her exploded, flooding her senses with immeasurable numbers of goosebumps.
Fuck.
"Oh, yeah. Sure."
"Good."
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As the duo trudged along the much busier streets of Seoul, Minho pulled up his mask higher, covering half of his face while he adjusted the black baseball cap on his head. (Y/N) giggled.
"Why?" asks the boy.
"Nothing. You just look so funny acting all flustered and worried about being seen," she says.
"That's because I'm dead if someone sees me and knows who I really am."
If there were other people than them, they would surely doubt his words and actions.
With a stifled laugh, they headed to a stand that sold tacos, and they each got one, not forgetting to grab a small tub of chocolate ice cream on the way.
"So," (Y/N) says, taking a bite out of her taco, "where to?"
"Come on," Minho grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand. "I know someplace that always calms me down after a stressing day."
And they ran down the streets with their joyful laughter filling the air, not caring if other people glance weirdly at their way. When they made it to the place Minho talked about, they sat down on a bench, the atmosphere turning quiet, the comforting silence matching the peaceful aura of the place.
The pads of her fingers touched the wood underneath her as she ate her taco, the tub of ice cream placed on the space between them as the bright light of the lamppost illuminated their features, allowing them to see the beauty of each other.
"Hey Minho?" (Y/N) finally spoke.
"Hm?" he hums, turning to her with his mouth full of taco.
"How come I didn't know you modeled?"
"How come you never asked?"
"Damn," she giggles, "you're a savage one."
Minho laughed, "Yeah, I get that a lot."
"Anyways, I haven't introduced myself to you yet. Do you even know my name?"
"No," he admits, grinning like a little kid. "I just find it very romantic that even though we've seen each other twice, we cross each others' minds for possibly millions of times. Am I right?"
"Well, to be frank," she took another bite out of her food and nodded as a response.
Minho smiled, "Good. Because ever since I saw you on that train I couldn't help but to want to see you again."
"And you did see me again," (Y/N) giggled.
"Yes, maybe it is destiny. Maybe it's our fate to meet and get to know each other," he grins.
"That," she gulped down all her food, "was literally the most cringeworthy thing that I have ever heard in my entire life."
"Why is that?"
"Because I never believe in destiny, fate and all that shit."
"Why?" Minho turned to face her, now with a serious look dawning on his beautiful facial features.
"Fate is just made up for children and hopeless romantics that only exist in novels and movies."
"That's not true."
(Y/N) looked up at him, and she saw a glint in his dark eyes.
"Destiny and fate exist. Soulmates exist, for they are bound to meet and love each other 'til the end of time."
"Okay, okay," she giggled. "Let's call a time out, I don't want to see a philosophical Minho tonight."
"Alright," he laughs. "If you say so, princess."
"But wait a minute, what's your name?"
"(Y/N). (L/N) (Y/N)."
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Never would she have imagined the photoshoot would end. Meaning that her and Minho would never meet again, and she would never get to hear his stories again, or hang out at what became 'their spot' at the local park.
During the time of the shoot she had learned so much about him. During lunch breaks, water breaks, or even during his makeup and hair session in his dressing room they talked. About anything and everything, whatever came to mind.
Her favorite novel, his favorite band, her friends, his family, her inhibitions, his obscure fear, her likes, his dislikes.
But when the shoot ended there was no more excuse for them to see each other, or talk to each other, or do stupid things together.
That's what she thought.
The next day after Minho's shoot had ended, a pink post-it note was stuck by the door of her locker at the studio and she read the writing, recognizing the scribbles and the little heart doodles around the paper.
His number was written on the pink paper, with a badly drawn picture of 'their spot', complete with the lamppost, and their forgotten tub of ice cream that night.
Needless to say (Y/N) called him first thing in the morning, and he picked up almost instantly. She could get used to his morning voice, talking to him for hours about the little things they do in their everyday life.
They met again at 'their spot', staining the bench with melted ice cream droplets, memories, laughter, stolen kisses, and murmured 'I love you's'.
Maybe not saying 'hello' isn't such a bad thing after all.
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- pealix_lee 💖