feel me | yeonbin

008

"Close your eyes."

Yeonjun closes his eyes obediently as his make-up artist fusses around him, making sure he looks absolutely perfect. It's WIRED, W Magazine, GQ, Vogue, and then Vanity Fair in quick succession. Rapid fire interviews. Nothing substantial. Just the usual press bullshit. He's pretty sure he has to show what's in his bag for one of them, so he's come to the company prepared with things in his bag that he would never fucking have. But he has to be interesting for the fans, so obviously he keeps a little photo of Daeul and him tucked in the folds of his wallet.

All press is good press, right?

"Perfect. Where's the hairspray?" the stylist calls out, and she has hairspray in her hand three seconds later. Yeonjun peeks out of one eye and sees Jaejoong standing off to the side, monitoring everything. Yeonjun's doing solo press today. The next few days he has group activities, which are much more energizing for him. Much easier.

"He's ready!"

Security escorts Yeonjun to one of the rooms in the company, which is set up for him to do the classic Autocomplete Interview with WIRED. They have the little posters with the tabs velcroed over the Google responses so Yeonjun can answer the most searched questions about him. He's fully prepared to answer about a dozen regarding Daeul and to lie and say he only has one tattoo.

"Hi, I'm Yeonjun and for-Sorry, let me try again," Yeonjun says, shaking his hands and cracking his neck with a grin as his interpreter laughs. "Hi, I'm Yeonjun and I'm doing... the WIRED Autocomplete Interview."

"That's great. Remember your T-H sound as much as possible, not the D sound," his interpreter reminds him, and Yeonjun groans as she laughs good-naturedly. She's been with Yeonjun for years, so she knows his habits when he tries to speak English.

"I'm doing the WIRED Autocomplete Interview. The, the, the. Theeeee," Yeonjun sings out, circling himself, and then he claps his hands. "Okay! I hate it! Let's do this!"

He settles down in his chair, the cameras set up, the lighting perfect already. His stylist combs one last strand of hair back into place, and then Yeonjun does the introduction about seven times before he's happy with it.

"Who... is Choi Yeonjun?" Yeonjun says, reading the first question. "Ah, he's no one. Normal guy. Sleeps with his mouth open sometimes. Don't bother."

He's switched on today. The interview is a breeze. Yeonjun finishes in under an hour, which is the mark of a true professional. After the last poster of Google questions, he hears "CUT!" and he throws the poster up in the air in celebration, earning him a laugh. But then the door of the room swings open, and Jaejoong rushes in. Yeonjun hadn't even realized he wasn't in the room during the interview, but now he's here, and he has two security guards with him.

"Yeonjun? Come here," he says with a bite to his voice, and Yeonjun raises both eyebrows. That's different. He glances over his shoulder, watching as the crew begins to set up for the W Magazine interview, and then he approaches Jaejoong. The moment he's within reach, Jaejoong grabs his wrist and pulls him away towards the corner of the room.

"Woah, woah. What's going on? What's wrong?" Yeonjun asks, brow furrowing.

"Listen to me," Jaejoong says, now gripping Yeonjun's arm tightly. His eyes are wild, and the two other security guards flanking him look just as concerned. Yeonjun's heart stops immediately. Who died? That's all he can think. "I need you to tell me truthfully if you've ever, at any point in your adult life, made a sex tape before."

Yeonjun has never experienced the floor falling out from beneath him, but that's what it feels like when the words Jaejoong says lodge into his brain. His blood feels like it's been flushed with ice water. And he says nothing. Absolutely nothing. He looks at one security guard, and then the other. When he meets Jaejoong's eyes again, he can't tell if this is a practical joke or if this is serious.

"Yeonjun." Jaejoong's voice is firm. "Yes or no?"

"W-Why... Why are you...?" Yeonjun whispers faintly.

"This is not the time for you to stall and lie," Jaejoong snaps quietly enough that no one else can hear except Yeonjun. "Have you ever made a sex tape before?"

Yeonjun purses his lips. He can feel his insides trembling as the adrenaline takes over. The fight-or- flight. Trauma in real time. Run away. Run away from it. Run. But he's rooted to the spot.

So he nods.

The very second he nods, Jaejoong swings one arm around Yeonjun's back and begins to guide him roughly, and Yeonjun has no choice but to follow. Security is still swarming him, two more guards joining in. They walk down the hallways of KHK, familiar hallways, but the walls seem to be closing in on Yeonjun as they move. Jaejoong throws open the door of a soundproof room and insists that security remain outside to guard the door, and then he slams the door shut and locks it.

"I need you to look at this video and tell me if this is real," Jaejoong says, his voice clipped as he roughly sits down and pulls his laptop towards him. "Now is not the time for shame. You need to look at this video and tell me if it's real or if it's something more nefarious. We know what Al and deep fakes are like these days."

"I... I don't..."

"Yeonjun." Jaejoong clears his throat, spinning his chair to face Yeonjun. Yeonjun can't move. He can't sit. He isn't even sure if he's breathing properly anymore. "Have you or have you not made a sex tape in the past?"

"I... I have," Yeonjun whispers, his voice strangled. "M- My... My ex and I, we used to... we... all the time, we..."

"This..." Jaejoong takes a deep breath and opens the laptop, looking like he would rather be at the dentist than sitting and watching pornography with his client on a Thursday morning. "Was uploaded to several pornography websites overnight. It's since been removed. But we know that the internet is forever. The video is circulating now and the internet is up in flames. So you need to watch it and confirm if it's you in this video or not. If it's real."

Yeonjun nods. His tongue feels swollen in his mouth now. Jaejoong navigates carefully, and then he clicks PLAY and shoves the laptop towards Yeonjun, making sure that he cannot see the screen like he's trying to provide some kind of modesty for the moment. Yeonjun sees nothing but a bit of darkness at first, but then his world splits apart at the axis.

"What?" His voice is clear as day. Obvious. So obvious. One word launches him back three years. All he sees are hands grabbing at bare skin, fingers dancing across his own waist. A tattooed arm holding him. "Was just getting ready for bed."

"You know, for an actor, you're really bad at playing innocent."

And then there's laughter that drowns out the voice that plays like a broken record in Yeonjun's brain at all times. He knows that bed. He knows that room. He knows that laugh and that voice. He knows every curve of the body pressed against his on the screen, and he's traced every single tattoo.

On the video, he sees the calico cat tattoo on his ribs as blonde Choi Yeonjun from three years ago sprawls onto the bed, two seconds away from being fully naked and exposed.

"That's... That's real."