Bromance Behind The Spotlight

YI'S POV: FLASHBACK- Part 1

The delay in the plane itinerary, for an unknown reason, made me arrive late at my next workplace. My mood was utterly ruined, filling my head with anger and frustration. As if my hectic schedule wasn’t enough, things kept making my life even busier.

Just what else is going to happen next? I thought to myself as I stepped out of my agency’s black 2019 Mercedes-Benz Sprinter. Bad things come in three. Now the first is my messed up trip, and the second is my lateness. What is the third one?

I would have to wait and find out.

Not that I was enthusiastic to welcome them, but at least I hoped all the bad things would just appear today, since I was already in the mood for it. There was no need for another episode tomorrow.

Stepping into the building with my bodyguard right close to me, parting from the-not-so crowded rabble of female fans that were blocking the way, I headed to the lift. I stood with my back leaning against the cold, metal frame and closed my eyes as if seeking the peace that I rarely had. There was a vibration against my spine as the electronic thing moved up, but I was too vexed to care.

*Ding*

The sound echoed, showing that I arrived at my destination. I waited for the door to slide open a few seconds after walking out of the metal box and heading to the dressing room. Even from a distance, I could hear people talking reverberated from inside the room. Judging from the distinct tones, I knew everyone was there. Well, that was nothing surprising, given I was late anyway. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the golden doorknob, pushed the heavy glass door filled with mosaic stickers, and made my way inside. The chat didn’t end at the sound of the door creaking, but all eyes were on me.

“Sorry I’m late.” I bowed my head apologetically.

“Our youngest and most handsome host has arrived. Why are you late then? Got a row of pretty ladies blocking your way?” asked Peter, teasing me as usual.

“No, my plan got delayed,” I replied, lifting my head back with a smile.

Peter chuckled and wiggled his eyes at me, to which I mimicked the action. Though he was ten years older than me, he enjoyed acting as my peer when I was around. He had the heart of a boy, regardless of his full-grown man's body and the mustache he took three to four days to shave every week. He was dressed in an oversize moss trench coat, and a white T-shirt underneath that seemed a little too tight for him. But I was relieved to see that his black pants came in a perfect size this time, not too small nor too big. His stylist must have learned her lesson when there was a wardrobe malfunction last week. Thankfully, he always had a trench coat on, or else the editor would have trouble cutting out the footage of two white buns hanging on stage with invisible strings.

“Have you eaten, Yi?” A deep yet gentle voice echoed from my left, drawing my attention to the person who was approaching me. I had no idea he had left his seat, but he was already right next to me.

“Yes, I did, Mr. Vincent,” I answered with a smile, oscillating between gratitude and guilt for always having him worry about my eating routine.

Mr. Vincent was just a few years younger than my dad, so literally, he was like a second dad when I wasn’t home. Since he also had two kids of his own, taking care of every youngster had become a routine.

“You look as handsome as always,” I said, eyeing his tailor-made dark brown suit that matched the color of his soft-eye gaze and a pastel pink-collar shirt that went well with his lips.

How I always wanted my lips to look that natural, too. Sadly, my stylist never left me off the hook. I found it slightly annoying that I had sometimes mistaken myself as a woman with the shades she put on me.

Mr. Vincent laughed softly at my compliment, shaking his head. “Are you saying that to mock me? I’m too old to be called handsome.”

“No, age doesn’t catch up with you at all. Trust me.”

“Stop with the flattery, Yi. I may suffer from hypertension if you’re to keep this any longer.” He let his laughter run a little longer before he stopped and said, “Anyway, let’s sit down. Take this script and go through it with us. There isn’t much time left.” He guided me to the sofa where he had just sat and picked up the papers from the rectangular glass table before handing them to me.

I went through the script in silence, ensuring to fulfill my duty as a host well by memorizing every line, hoping not to forget anything when the shooting started, when Peter bumped his shoulder to mine, distracting me from my practice.

“By the way, kill the stage. Spice up the heat for our ladies’ audience.”

My brows furrowed at his words as confusion took over me. What did he mean by that?

As if sensing my puzzlement, Mr. Vincent spoke up. “Right, I almost forgot. You’re going to have a dance battle today with our guest.”

“Dance battle?” I arched my right eyebrow questioningly, oscillating between perplexity and shock. Usually, if there was a time that I needed to perform other than just standing there and being a host, the production team would inform me. But this time, I didn’t get any information.

“Our guests today are a new actor/idol group.”

“Actor/idol group?”

“They are newly recruited young men, trained to debut in both singing and acting fields. They only went public last year. And since you are also an idol turned actor, the producers suggest doing dance battles. It’ll spice up our program today.”

“Why didn’t I get any notice? Did I miss it?” I was about to take out my phone and checked to see if there was any unread notification when Peter cut me off.

“Nope,” he said. “The team just told us this afternoon. It was impromptu.”

“Exactly.” Mr. Vincent nodded in agreement.

“But I didn’t get to practice or prepare any dancing moves.” I was the type of person who valued practice and proper preparation, so to get a sudden notice like this, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. I didn't prepare for anything.

“Don’t worry, Yi. It is a freestyle battle. Not a choreographed one. Just bring out whatever moves you have. Hand sliding, grooving, or whatever. Isn’t freestyle your specialty?” Peter places his big, warm hand over my shoulder, squeezing it gently to say take it easy.

“Yeah. Don’t worry too much. Just do whatever you can. We believe in you.” Mr. Vincent said, giving me a thumb up as encouragement.

“Here.” Peter handed me his phone that was already having a video played in landscape view. “This is a clip of that group. The one you are to do the battle with is him.” He pointed at a guy in a well-built body, dressed in dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved grey T-shirt that outlined his masculinity and biceps so well. His body seemed to develop faster than his age, given his face was looking a little younger than mine. “You can learn about his dancing style from this video.”

I took the phone from him and looked at the clip of a live video concert that comprised five men. Strangely, my eyes didn’t focus on the one who was supposed to be my opponent. I diverted my entire attention toward a guy who was the tallest but skinniest among the group. His dancing moves were flawed, slower than the beat, and he kept messing up the choreography. However, those weren’t the things that had my attention.

And honestly, I didn’t know what drew me to this person. All I knew was that there was something about this guy that made me unable to take my eyes off him. Perhaps it was his dark brown eyes that looked like a newborn doe; so innocent and gentle. Or maybe it was the charming smile that his thin lips stretched from one side of the slightly pink cheek to another. Again, I didn’t know.

And I couldn’t wait to see him in person to find out the reasons.