Chapter Text
She was so sure he was the devil's human offspring. He was beautiful, with the most gentle skin, bright eyes that twinkled with stars, height that could tower over her, and hair so perfectly put in place it was almost ridiculous. The people loved him, bowed down to him, and kissed every inch of the path he walked because of his pretty, fanged smile and sweet giggle he gave them. Yet, she knew that behind that physical perfection, there was a monster—a big, looming monster with an enormous ego and blinding red hate aimed at her for no good reason.
She had no idea why he hated her so much, and she wanted to know.
He strutted, smirked harshly, and stared at her with stone-like eyes that made her want to cower in fear. He loved to boast about his winnings, about how great his life was, and it honestly just infuriated her. He had to know how difficult her situation was and was just trying to put her down about it.
Yet she couldn't do a single thing because she was his makeup artist, and he was a famous idol from a group so big that she wouldn't dare quit or actually tell him how much she hated him. She wouldn't put it past him to ruin her career because he feels spiteful and upset that she left him.
She had the inkling feeling that she knew Kim Mingyu well enough to know that, and she loved her job more than she hated him.
Apart from that hatred she felt deep in her gut, she had a lot of fun with it. Mistakenly messing up his eyeliner or making his eyeshadow too thick, putting on too much blush that it made him look so, so stupid. She would always ruin the last thing she had to do right before he had to leave so she had no time to fix it. His reactions after his stage always made her laugh; getting scolded by her leading makeup artist wasn't as funny.
He always found a way to get back at her, without fail. Whether it was being difficult in his chair by fiddling around or turning to his members to talk to them about going for drinks or to the store right after to get the right, expensive ingredients for the meal he'd make, or to go to the gym, the sauna, or on a hike. The list was honestly endless, and she would get so frustrated and yank his head back to where it was supposed to be to get her job DONE. All he would do is chuckle under his breath and look at her with those mocking eyes and apologise with an annoyingly fake tone.
She hated him. Everyone else loved him.
The day she snapped was the day he had to film for a music video. Super. She was told beforehand and sent documents and photos about his concept and what lines she needed to stay in. She didn't miss the bold note about not messing around and doing it properly. Her leading artist was sharp and always knew what she was planning. It was her fault for being so close and open with Yunjin.
A big part of her wanted to ruin his look anyway. It would be so easy. She could get away with it by putting on too much contour or too much highlighter and blame the lighting, tell Yunjin that the light made it look worse than it was. But a small part of her knew this music video was huge for Mingyu. For all the members. As much as she hated him, she adored the others so much, and she didn't want to ruin it for them just because she felt spiteful and stubborn about Mingyu.
It was a cold day, the day she arrived on set with her makeup equipment and stock. She had layers of jackets because it was freezing, and she didn't want to die. She could literally see her own breath. People greeted her as she shuffled past, pointing her in the direction of the makeup bus and wishing her the best with her look that day. She smiled back and thanked them but internally dreaded having to deal with Satan's offspring. Seeing the other members had been nice, though. They politely greeted her, said "fighting," and that she looked cute in her big, layered jackets. She found them so funny and wished them luck too, because how could she not? Especially with Hoshi's huge grin and full cheeks from the snacks he had been eating.
"Hey." She had just finished setting things up when Yunjin approached her with wary eyes and a suspicious glare. She smiled at him warmly in response and let out a short breath of laughter.
"You can stop giving me that look, I'm on my best behaviour today," she told him, with promising eyes and an honest smile. She didn't blame him for the concern he held. It was a big day for Seventeen, and she had a huge habit of getting pissed off with Mingyu even more on these days. He just didn't shut up and gloated even more about how awesome he is and how awesome his life was.
"I seriously doubt that, for some reason," Yunjin sighed, pinching his nose before running the same hand through his ruffled hair. He looked like a mess, but he always did on the big days, staying up for hours to make sure he had everything right. "You say that every time you do something stupid. I don't even know how you still have a job here." She smiled innocently at him, shrugging and turning back to her own station to look over things one last time.
"I have no idea how I do, either," she admitted, frowning at the thought. She couldn't ponder on it for long, considering she realized she forgot a makeup brush and gasped in horror. It was a genuine, stupid mistake, and she couldn't even believe it. Yunjin questioned her outburst with confusion, and she turned to him with a pale face and a hard swallow, "Please tell me you have a spare blender brush you can lend me?" she begged, stepping into his space and gripping his arm harshly. Yunjin yelped and pulled his arm free, his eyes wide and his jaw clenching.
"Are you kidding me?" He had whispered with clenched teeth. In response, she had shaken her head, closing her eyes and groaning in frustration with her hands coming up to her hair. The one day she decided to be a nice makeup artist simply had to be the day she forgot a makeup brush she needed. More than needed. Depended on. Of course. The universe was mocking her, kicking its feet up and knocking back a drink with a bowl of popcorn. "No, I don't have a spare. Why would I have a spare? I'd have liked to think my own artists had the decency to pack their brushes properly," He began rambling in a yell as he started walking away, "Apparently I was wrong since my best god-damn artist just did the ONE thing I never expected her to do, the ONE thing." Yunjin disappeared out of sight, and she cringed slightly when she heard his yelling getting further and further.
It was her fault, admittedly. She had been up late, taking care of her mum's new baby, her young brother who had bad bowel problems that caused a lot of stomach pain and crying. She had been trying to comfort him, bouncing him gently and rubbing his stomach into the early hours of the morning, because her mum was exhausted, and it was the least she could do. She landed up crashing on the rocking chair in the baby's nursery and woke up with a sore and stiff back. By the time she even got back to her own place, she had lazily packed her makeup equipment and fallen asleep for another half an hour before leaving
"I'm guessing you're the reason Yunjin is stomping around the set and yelling at everyone." She forced herself to take a long, deep breath when she heard his voice. It was rough, considering it was eight in the morning. He had probably just woken up that day. She frowned at her station one last time with regret and guilt before turning to face him, and quickly noted the messy bed hair, tired eyes, and cup of coffee in hand. She sharpened her eyes at the sight of the dark bags under his eyes.
"You didn't sleep." She gritted out at him in response, dragging her chair back so that he could settle himself on his chair, "What do I always tell you, Kim Mingyu? Huh?" She muttered angrily as she picked up her clips to get his hair out of the way. She hated bags. They were hard to cover, and considering they were so deep and bold, she would have a very hard time doing her job today. She really, really hated when he didn't get his stupid eight hours because it made her life so much more difficult.
"Good morning to you, too." He says sarcastically, his lisp more prominent in the mornings when he couldn't care less. She ignored the pang of endearment and focused on the tone he used, instead, "I was excited about today and couldn't sleep well. Big day." He explained as she picked up her first makeup product of the day. "This is going to be huge for us, you know? We're really hoping it kicks off, and that our Carats like it as much as us. More success would be great, but millions of happy fans would be awesome." He rambled as I rubbed his primer into his face with my hands that I made sure were cold.
He was already boasting so early in the day, and she openly rolled her eyes at him before turning around to pick up her next product. She couldn't help a little bit of that angst getting out. It was the least he could take for being the bane of her torment and annoyance every time she clocked into work. He continued to ramble and boast about things as she got a move on. When it came to his bags, she went dead silent, leaning in closer and focusing on getting them covered properly. He went silent too, but she couldn't give less of a damn why. All she hoped was that this concealer would actually do its job. She begged the sky above her to take mercy and work with her for once because she would have needed a miracle here.
"How's your life been, though?" When he asked the question, she froze in place, turning her eyes from his bags to his own pair of stupid, pretty eyes. "Have any success as great as mine, or are you still barely passing the living with stability status?" His smile turned cruel, and his eyes turned bored. She wished she could smack him, yell and scream about how he had no business pondering about her life, about how hard it could be taking care of four younger siblings at the ripe age of twenty-two because her mother was barely hanging on by a thread, her own illness eating away at her every day.
She wished she could watch his face pale and guilt find his eyes before she left and never came back, but all she did was take a step back, turn back to her own station, and pick up the next product with a force a bit too strong to be called non-aggressive. She needed this job. Mum wasn't working anymore, and her father wasn't in the picture. It was her and her siblings against the world while mum got her rest so that she could hopefully recover. This job paid good, and she was actually able to keep herself and her siblings afloat.
"Why do you always get so upset when I ask that, hmm?" He asked her, his eyebrow raising as she got back in his space to do her job. She didn't answer, actually refused to. If she spoke, she was sure it would end with a dead body and her on the run from authorities. She was tired. She had barely gotten sleep, was overwhelmed from being forced into a parental figure role, and it never helped when he opened his big, loud mouth. She wanted to cry, but she'd be damned if she let him see her like that. So she takes a deep breath, clenched her jaw, and moves to do his eyeshadow.
"Hey," He had said to her gently, and it made her hate him more. The way he could tell when he hit a nerve, and then continued to be careful and soft with her, because it showed how nice he could be to her if his head wasn't so far up his own beautiful arse. He does have a nice arse, just a side note, "I didn't mean to hit a nerve, I'm sorry." He tells her as she dabs a brush along his cheeks. She sighs, closing her eyes briefly, before shaking her head.
"Just be quiet." She tells him. Miraculously, as if someone's taken mercy on her, Mingyu stays quiet as she finished up her first session of makeup for the day. It was awkward when she needed her blending brush for his eyeshadow, instead having to gently use her index finger and get close. Both of them had held their breaths; she didn’t even want to be doing it, but she got it over with.
He looked good, his right features sticking out and the right colour eyeshadow making his eyes pop. She lifted his head, making him look to the roof just so she could double-check that his skin tone and foundation actually matched and blended in well. When she had seen that it did, she used her hands to pat his wide and strong shoulders to tell him he was done.
He had looked behind her, and into the mirror, and let out a small gasp of surprise. When a wide grin found his face, and his eyes twinkled up at her with amusement, she took a good step back and turned away from him, “You actually did a great job,” He says in a fast breath, scooting closer in his chair to have a better look, “for once.” The words stung her so fast that she actually stuttered in her movements. Yeah, she had deserved that. She really did. But she was still petty and stubborn and hated getting spoken down to by Kim Mingyu and all his sunshine-out-the-arse greatness.
She spins to him, taking in a long, shaky breath, "What did you just say?" She asked him, her chest felt tight. She was a good artist. A great one, even. How else would she have gotten a job here, right? This was the one thing she took pride in, and he just spat down on it. She deserved it, yes, but fuck him for that, anyways. She's an amazing artist, who becomes a bad one the second he breathes funny at her.
His eyes had widened, and he put his hands up in defence, "It isn't my fault you always mess my looks up," He said slowly, his eyes staring straight into hers, "Do you really blame me for saying that?" She scoffs, pushing down and ignoring the frustration bubbling in her gut. When he raises an eyebrow expectantly, annoyance finding his eyes as he puts his hands down and rather crosses his arms over his stupidly nice chest, she snaps.
"Have you ever," She steps closer to him, "Asked yourself why I always mess up your stupid face with makeup?" After spitting the words, she holds a little regret. While she had never given Mingyu a good reason to dislike her, this might have just done it for him. She stares up at him, hoping her gaze holds the weight of hate she wants it to.
When she saw his eyebrows flicker up in surprise, she knew she had done what she intended to. Did she just maybe lose her job? Yeah, probably. Would she cry and scream into her pillow later? Yeah, she would.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks her, standing up and taking a step towards her. Let me tell you, she rarely hears him cuss; he only really does it when he's offended or pissed off, or feeling playful with his members. This definitely wasn't playful, she knew that.
The heavy frown in his brow, and the small pout on his lips are visible as he stares down into her eyes, and she wants to punch his esophagus and hope he chokes if, and when, she does. She takes another step forward and jabs a finger into his chest.
"I sit here, every time I come into work, and take all your bullshit, and you know what? I have to, because if I don't, I'll lose my damn job." She starts, continuously jabbing that finger into his...really hard chest. Oh my god, why is it so hard? She huffs a breath, clearing her mind from his sinful distractions, "I ignore your gloating about how awesome you are and how fucking amazing your life is, that you do so obviously to put me down about my own living situation, and your obvious dislike towards me - why the hell do you dislike me so much, by the way - and just shut up and do my job, because you're a big untouchable star that I'm sure someone will kill me for hating so much." His frown deepens with every word, and she can't help but be glad she is finally saying it.
Joshua and Wonwoo, who are also in the van getting their makeup done, stare with bored interest through the mirror, as if they've been waiting for this to happen. She doesn't spare more than a small glance in their direction, and they share a glance with pointed 'I told you so' looks before going back onto their phones, "You are so, so full of yourself and I'm so over it." She breathes out, throwing her arms into the air, "I've been over it for so long."
"What-" He seemed stunned, taking a step back as she turned back to her station and started packing her things up calmly, "Why are you…" She ignored him as she did it, frustrated and angry tears begging to escape, fighting against her deep breaths and tightly shut eyes to get out. She won't give him the satisfaction of crying. Her movements go from calm to more frustrated and forceful, packing everything in an angry hurry, "Hey, just wait a second." He rushes out, a hand coming to gently take her shoulder. She stands up, pushing it away harshly, turning to him.
"Put another hand on me, I dare you, Kim Mingyu." He steps back from her as if she just slapped him across the face, and she watches as his features morph into anger, “You’re stubborn for no good reason.” He tells her, his jaw clenching, “If you hate it here so much, just quit. Leave.” He points to the door harshly, making Joshua and Wonwoo look up quickly. They share a look before Joshua stands up.
“Mingyu,” He says to the taller boy softly, glancing at her with regretful eyes, but she puts her hand up and shakes her head. It was her fight, and if he wanted to call her stubborn, she would show him stubborn.
“No, he’s right.” She says, with a dry laugh, turning back to her equipment, zipping up the last of it, and picking it up. Mingyu looks taken aback once again, “I quit.” After announcing it, she walks to the exit of the van and doesn’t look back. She was done. She’d figure it out, apply for jobs that would help her manage with her siblings, she would do something, but she wasn’t staying here and dealing with this anymore.
People on set glance at her with confusion, muttering to each other as she keeps her chin up and keeps moving. She battles a bit with her big, layered jackets and heavy cases, but she’d rather die than stop and ask for help. She hoped he couldn’t get help with his makeup, hope he had a shit day for the first day of filming. The latest they could get an artist in was by next week, at least. Considering any employee has to go through mountains of legal work and signing to protect the idols.
When she gets to her car, after popping the boot and packing her casing into the car, she sits in the driver's seat, grips the handle, and stares in front of her. What was she waiting for? Someone to come out running and begging her to stay? Mingyu to come and apologise and worship her for the rest of her life?
A few minutes pass of silence. It’s the loudest silence of her life, and it makes her turn her engine on and reverse out of her parking.
The drive home was also silent, but her head was not. Over and over she replays the whole interaction, a nauseating burn finding her stomach every time she does. The grip on her wheel is tight, and it takes every ounce of will in her body not to burst into tears behind the wheel, on the damn highway, but she manages. On the bright side, this job would look amazing on her applications. Two years working with a Korean pop idol.
She finally lets the dam wall burst when she gets back inside her home, her cases left at the front door. She heads straight for her bed and lands onto it with a loud sigh before curling into a ball and crying quietly into her pillow. It goes on like that for hours because she knows she could have done better, but he called her stubborn and only she’s allowed to call herself stubborn. Stupid. She’s stupid, and men are stupid, and she hates them. Hates him.
What would she do about her siblings? Her mum? They needed the money. The oldest of her younger siblings was Russell, and he was fifteen. He couldn’t help with money; he was so young, and she didn’t want to put pressure on the kid. The other two were eight, Harley, and two months old, Harvey. No chance they were pulling anything. She basically just threw them overboard.
It’s only in the late evening when she finally gets a call from Jiho, her leading makeup artist. She stares at it hard for a few seconds, pondering if it’s even worth picking up. She wondered if he was ready to yell at her, or if he was going to ask what happened.
It’s with a heavy sigh that she picks up her phone, presses answer, and brings it to her ear, “Hello?” Her voice is croaky, slightly strained from the tears, but she hopes he ignores it anyway, cringing slightly at the sound of it. There’s a few beats of silence from the other end of the line, and she wonders if Jiho meant to call at all, or if it was a butt dial of some sort. She’s about to hang up when he speaks.
“So, had your first breakdown at work today, hmm?” He ponders, his voice gentle, and the sound of bedsheets rustling in the background. She sniffles, rolling her eyes as if Jiho’s in front of her, before bringing her hand down to her own blanket and fiddling with it. She was waiting for him to let her down slowly. Gently recommend places she can apply for good money. He knew her situation; she was close enough with him that she could openly talk about her weighing problems.
“‘Guess so.” She mumbles, turning her head into her pillow and sighing. She did pretty well, holding it off for two years, but that didn’t make her consequences any lighter.
She was now waiting for it, bracing herself, even. When Jiho says, “So we’ll see you at work tomorrow?” She perks up in surprise, breathing in the wrong way and choking on her own breath. She drops her phone on her lap to smack against her lungs, sitting up in bed, with wide eyes. She can hear Jiho’s concerned shouts from the phone, although extremely muffled, and goes to pick her phone up quickly, “DO I NEED TO CALL AN AMBULANCE? ARE YOU OKAY?” He yells down the line. She winces away from the phone, rubbing her throat with her free hand, “WHY DID YOU GO QUIET? OH MY GOD ARE YOU DEAD?”
“Can you stop yelling? Maybe?” She requests with the roll of her eyes. Her heart beats hurriedly in her throat as she takes a few deep breaths. It was a dangerous thing, hope. Yet she feels it blossom in her stomach, the hope that she can still keep the job and keep that financial balance she has. Yes, it’s not anything like stability, she definitely isn’t financially stable, but she keeps the kids safe enough.
“Well, if you weren’t so dramatic—”
“I wasn’t being dramatic, I was choking!” She exclaims, pulling her phone back briefly to give it a dirty look.
“—Then I wouldn’t have yelled down the damn line.” He grumbles to her under his breath, “Should I apologize for caring? My god.” She laughs softly, rearranging herself on her bed and taking a deep breath. She slowly relaxes her body before preparing to ask the fleet of questions. She has no idea how, after straight up insulting a famous Korean idol, she still has her job. God, if his fans found out… she was well aware how peaceful carats were; she’s met a few herself, but none of them knew she was their idol's artist, and as well aware she was of their peace, she was also well aware of how protective they are. It was both terrifying and admirable. A bit weird, too, but what can you expect from K-Pop fans?
“Are you serious about me keeping my job?” She asks Jiho, and she can’t really keep the excitement out of her voice. Jiho snorts, she barely even hears it down the line, only a soft crackle of it. “Babe,” he says with a soft tone, “if we fired every employee who lost their shit with idols or more important staff, we wouldn’t have any employees.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise, bringing her hand up to gently twiddle with her own hair. In both her years of working with Pledis, she’s never heard of one story about any of these employees who lose their cool with idols or managers.
“I haven’t heard of this,” She enquires, her eyes squinting with suspicion, “not once, Jiho.” She wondered if he was just being nice, saying things to make her calm down and think it’s normal. If employees were allowed to be rude to idols and management, the community would be in shambles. She pauses at that thought, because the community is in shambles and the idols deserve way better. Huh.
“Funny you mention that,” Jiho hums. She can hear the teasing lilt in his tone, “Maybe it’s because you’re way too infatuated with Mingyu for it to be considered hea-” She makes an audible noise, interrupting him.
“It’s not my fault my burning hatred keeps me so busy,” She says sarcastically, blankly staring at the wall in front of her, “when you hate someone so much, all you can really think about is them.” Jiho outright laughs at her. Doesn't chuckle or giggle, but rather laughs. Cackles, even.
“Sure, babe, hate.” His tone is suggestive, and it makes her want to physically gag. What he was hinting at was incredibly ludicrous and very much not true. She could guess what he would say. ‘There’s a very blurred line between hate and love.’ Blah, blah, blah. She was positive, even more than positive, that this was hate. She wanted to shove Mingyu's face into a recently used toilet, hate.
“Suddenly I hate this conversation.” She tells him, frowning at her hands. Jiho hums thoughtfully, and that frown on her face turns into a glare. No, she wouldn’t hear it. Not a chance.
“I sense we need to do a little unpacking.” He tells her.
“Bye, Jiho.” She responds in a bored tone, pulling her phone back to hang up. She hears an amused ‘ignoring the very obvious truth isn’t healthy’ before she presses the button.
Once she’s sat in her own silence, she falls back onto her bed with a small huff of joy. The sun’s setting outside now, and her tears have made her sleepy, emotionally drawn out from the day. With one final stretch, she turns her head to the side. On her bedside table sits her blending brush, and she audibly scoffs at it, gives it the finger, and gets up to take a shower before retiring to her bed for the night.