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leggomylino · 4 years

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Starry-Eyed | Han Jisung

Genre: silly, nostalgia, college au, theater au

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Word count: ~1.1k

A/n: Masterlist in bio, yeehaw! 🤠 | For Hunter 🧡 (@hanniiesuckle17)

~⤞★⤝~

Han Jisung was a boy with stars in his eyes. He was a boy you’d come to admire for quite some time; even if he did have a tendency of occasionally running into glass doors and barely maintaining a 2.0 grade point average. He was still your first waking thought at sunrise, and your last coherent one at dusk.

And now...here, in this moment...

“...Is that it? Is that all I am to you? Just...an empty vessel? Someone to dump your emotions into when you don’t know where to turn? Heh,” you scoffed. “Well what about me, Jisung, what about my emotions?! What about MY feelings?!?”

The boy you thought you once knew turned away, a barren wasteland of his former self. The late afternoon sun accentuating the hidden highlights in naturally brown hair. “...What about them, Y/n? What about them? Since you like repeating words so much, I’ll ask you again...”

His eyes shifted onto yours like the changing tide.

“What about them?”

You were lost for words. You didn’t know what to say, what to think...and all because...all because...

...There was a boom mic blocking your vision.

“C U U U T!!!” An angry Director Lee Know roared. His voice was a growling sonorous from his cat-stickered megaphone. “Dang it, Hyunjin, I told you guys to knock it off!! What could be so funny this time?!”

Hyunjin and Felix, both stagehands and sound support, were (once again) kneeled over in hissing laughter from something or another they’d found amusing, causing the boom mic in Hyun’s grip to slip-n-slide...right into your face. You backed away from it, relaxing your posture as the set lights faded and the little red recording light gave out.

“I’m sorry,” Hyun wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Seungmin keeps making faces, it’s not our fault!”

All eyes turned to Camera Man Minnie as an accusatory finger went his way, including the snapping of Director Lee's head, who whirled around faster than anyone, but...the boy merely raised his brows in innocent curiosity.

“Who, me?” he blinked. “I didn’t do anything. I’ve been paying attention to the camera this whole time.”

“Liar!!” Hyun and Felix called in unison, to which Minho reeled his head back to let out a groan of annoyance.

“Uuuuuugh, okay, whatever. Everyone take ten…I need a drink...”

As the set slowly dissipated, with Hyun and Felix chasing down Seungmin, the boy genius leaping over low-sitting equipment while managing to take poor Assistant Jeongin hostage, and Minho venturing off to the green room (tent) for that much-needed drink, you stretched out your arms and came to sit on one of the park benches not far off from the makeshift filming set. It was a lovely day in Brightwell Park, but sort of a shame; such a beautiful day to be filming such a heart wrenching scene between the crumbling relationship of your character and Han’s (whose names ironically were the same to each; courtesy of one meddling Bang Chan and Seo Changbin, who knew of your little crush and convinced Minho to alternate the names).

A short film for your theater final...who’s bright idea was this again? What happened to just taking an exam and putting on something Shakespeare...?!

“Hey,” said Han. Right in your ear.

Startled, you nearly fell backwards into the bushes, gripping the fabric of your sweater over your heart. How did he sneak up on you like that?!? You hadn’t even heard him sitting down...

The bench was barely big enough for Han Jisung and his spread out manner of sitting, and conservative old you, curled up on the edge. But Han didn’t seem to mind, and honestly, neither did you.

“Here, catch,” he said, and quickly you fumbled to keep a bottle of water from exploding onto the pavement. Han Jisung swung his down, the way he always did during Minho’s ten-minute anger-management breaks where he disappeared to collectively admire pictures of his cats over a bottle of something strong. He sighed afterward. “...You’re doing great out there, as usual. But one thing I noticed...”

Oh? “Yeah?”

“...” He smiled. “There it is again. That goofy gleam in your eyes.” He flicked a fallen cherry blossom petal from your hair. “You looked like you stepped out of an anime, but we’re filming a drama here.” He took another swing of agua, then connected his elbows to his knees. “So what’s the good news? Did you finally get that apartment? Or maybe a magical fairy came and zapped all your debt away? Did your letter from Hogwarts arrive?”

Something hot laced your cheeks, the reflection of a pink glow shimmering in the water bottle’s surface. A gentle breeze whistled by, carrying with it spring cherry blossoms and something sweeter, something warmer and brighter and more fuzzy-like.

It was the shifting of a new foundation; all week, you had been trying to muster up the courage to tell Han Jisung how you really felt, how you’d always felt, ever since that fateful day in August when he approached you on stage as both the best and worst Romeo Montague you’d ever seen. You swallowed your pride, the rapid pounding of your heart telling you the time was now, before that accursed Christopher and Changbin ruined everything by blabbing it themselves through their meddling antics.

“I—“

That was all you managed to get out. Rip. “Okay, everyone back to your stations!” Minho announced. “We’ve got twenty minutes ‘til the pizza gets here and five ‘til I lose my patience with anymore distractions.”

“Aw, relax!” Han called, waving him off as he sprang to his feet and hoisted you up too. He gave you that reassuring smile, the small soft one he reserved only for you, before nerve-wracking exams and over the fire’s hearth of marshmallow s’mores and late-night cram sessions. “C’mon, Miss Showstopper,” he winked. “Let’s finish this scene so we can eat, but try to look more heartbroken this time. You looked like my aunt when she found out her husband was gonna be gone on a business trip for a few weeks.”

Though he chuckled as he wandered off, back into the limelight of rolling cameras and goofy stagehands that did more playing than producing, you couldn’t help but smile— you just...couldn’t help it. For you may have lost one moment, but it would be one you could always come back to later, adding it to pages of unwritten script where your story and Han’s collided. There would be many more chances of impromptu, of moments to advance to the climax and savor the journey downhill, towards the final act.

You wanted to tell him, but there would be other days to come. As long as the camera kept rolling, the show would go on.

~⤞★⤝~

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