Me, myself & I

The airport scene had been looming over Hoeun for weeks. Gyu-Ho, his character, had finally reached his breaking point, choosing to leave in an act of self-preservation and, perhaps, self-destruction. The scene was a culmination of his character's pride, vulnerability, and heartbreak—all fighting for dominance. Hoeun knew this moment was pivotal, not just for Gyu-Ho, but for him as an actor. He had prepared meticulously, spending countless hours immersed in Gyu-Ho's pain. But even with all the preparation, he could feel the scene weighing on him in ways he hadn't anticipated.

That morning, Hoeun woke with a familiar tightness in his chest, an uneasy feeling that clung to him as he went about his day. He dressed slowly, his mind racing through Gyu-Ho's final moments with Go Yeong, the unspoken plea he would keep hidden as he walked away. It felt personal, like he was about to let someone he loved slip away. He wondered if Gyu-Ho felt that same anguish, or if he had built enough walls to keep himself from feeling the full extent of it.

When he arrived on set, the usually lively atmosphere was subdued. Yoonsu, who played Go Yeong, was sitting off to the side, focused and quiet, with his script in hand. Yoonsu looked up as Hoeun approached, offering a small nod. There was a mutual understanding in his gaze, as if they both knew this scene was going to demand more from them than any script or rehearsal could capture.

"Ready?" Yoonsu asked gently, his eyes searching Hoeun's.

Hoeun managed a small smile, though he felt his face tighten with the effort. "As ready as I'll ever be, Hyung."

The director gathered the cast and crew, emphasizing the emotional stakes of the scene. Hoeun listened, nodding, his gaze fixed on the terminal doors that loomed behind the director. In just a few minutes, he would step forward, suitcase in hand, and make that painful walk away from the person Gyu-Ho couldn't stop loving.

"Action!"

Hoeun felt himself disappear as Gyu-Ho came to life. He was no longer standing on a film set; he was at an airport, surrounded by strangers, yet profoundly alone. Each step he took was heavy, pulling him further from Go Yeong. His mind screamed at him to stop, to turn around, to look into Go Yeong's eyes one last time. But Gyu-Ho's pride was a relentless thing, forcing him to push down the longing that wanted to consume him.

In the background, Hoeun could feel Yoonsu's gaze on him. The push and pull inside him was relentless. Half of him wanted Go Yeong to stop him, to shout his name, to pull him back from this decision. But the other half knew that Gyu-Ho would keep walking, that his pride and hurt were stronger than his desire to stay.

As he continued to walk, his vision blurred, and he felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. He kept going, forcing himself to hold it together until he heard the director call, "Cut!"

But the word didn't break the spell. Hoeun felt Gyu-Ho's pain still clinging to him, an ache in his chest that refused to subside. He didn't look at anyone as he walked off set, his eyes downcast, desperate to escape the weight of the emotions he'd just conjured. His chest felt tight, like he was carrying an unbearable sadness that wasn't entirely his own. He didn't stop to talk to Yoonsu or any of the crew, slipping away as quickly as he could.

He found an empty hallway and paced back and forth, trying to steady his breathing. When the director finally wrapped the day, Hoeun gathered his things in silence, keeping his head down as he made his way out of the building without a word. The ache in his chest lingered, and he knew he couldn't face anyone just yet, especially not Yoonsu. The scene was still too raw, still too close.

When he arrived home, the emptiness of his apartment swallowed him. He dropped his bag by the door, his shoulders slumping as he collapsed onto his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The memory of Yoonsu's expression—the hurt, the silent plea for him to stay—played over and over in his mind. His phone chimed softly, breaking the silence, and he glanced at it to see a message from Yoonsu.

Hey, are you okay?

Hoeun stared at the message, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and reluctance. He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone, but Yoonsu had been there in that moment, feeling everything he'd felt. Slowly, he typed out a reply.

I think so. It just... hit harder than I thought it would.

He paused, reading the words before sending them, feeling the truth in them. Within seconds, Yoonsu replied.

Same here. That scene... felt almost too real. I almost couldn't let you walk away.

Hoeun's chest tightened as he read the message. Knowing Yoonsu had felt the same way somehow made it hurt more and hurt less all at once. He thought back to the look in Yoonsu's eyes, that silent plea he'd forced himself to ignore.

I wanted you to stop me. Half of me did, anyway. But Gyu-Ho... he wouldn't let himself turn around.

The words felt raw, spilling out before he could stop them. In that moment, he wasn't sure if he was speaking as Hoeun or as Gyu-Ho, the boundaries still blurred. Yoonsu's response was immediate.

That's what made it so powerful, I think. You could see that struggle in you. Honestly, it took everything in me not to run after you and pull you back.

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at Hoeun's lips as he read Yoonsu's words. He could feel the understanding, the way they had both been pulled under by the emotions of the scene.

Thank you for saying that. I didn't mean to leave without saying goodbye.

It's okay. I could tell you needed some space. Just wanted to check on you.

Yoonsu's kindness was like a balm, easing some of the lingering ache in Hoeun's chest. He felt vulnerable, but also understood. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to be honest.

I guess I was just afraid... of how much that scene affected me. It's hard to leave Gyu-Ho behind sometimes, Hyung.

There was a pause, the silence stretching out as Hoeun waited, feeling a strange sense of relief in admitting his struggles. Finally, Yoonsu replied.

That's what makes you so good, though. You give everything. But don't forget that you're more than him, okay?

A warmth spread through Hoeun, grounding him. He let out a small laugh, the tension in his chest finally easing.

Thank you, hyung. I needed that.

Anytime. And for the record... that was one of the best scenes I think we've done together.

Pride mixed with a lingering sadness, but for the first time since filming, Hoeun felt a sense of accomplishment. They had created something real, something that had touched them both deeply. He typed out his final message, a simple truth.

Couldn't have done it without you.

As he set down his phone, he felt lighter, the ache in his chest softening. He knew there would be more scenes like this, more moments where the line between himself and Gyu-Ho blurred. But now, he felt ready to face it.