all eyes on us | zen x mc
for mystictober 2025 day 4 -- zen x mc // idol
summary: idol!au. zen and mc are on we got married, a reality tv show where idols must act like a married couple for the cameras. but off-camera, both of them realize that maybe not everything is for show.
notes: shoutout to the goat @jaeheeism bc i couldn't think of a better name for zen's group lol -- the vague mention of MY5TIC is inspired by her own mysme idol au, project MYSTIC!
The director's command is absolute. The crew starts bustling behind her, everyone cheering for a recording session well done.
MC and Zen -- a fellow idol, and who she's in tandem with during this last ditch effort at publicity via reality TV -- are in each other's arms, incidentally attempting to wash laundry together by stomping on it whilst in a large bucket, suds reaching up to their calves. A classic domestic trope enjoyed by millions, apparently.
The space itself is incredibly claustrophobic -- a small bathroom in a flat the producers rented out to recreate a real 'married couple' experience -- which allows MC's frame to be practically enveloped in Zen's.
His hands cage her in as he leans on the wall behind her, trying to balance himself. Before the cameras went off, the both of them were laughing excitably, MC's arms around Zen's neck, trying to create some form of sugar-coated, surface-level romance to make whoever was watching feel good (or not).
Now the laughter has died, but she's still in his arms, unsure of what to do next. Zen is barely a breath away from her, crimson eyes blinking at her teasingly. He smells good -- and maybe it's the detergent and clean laundry beneath their feet, or maybe it's his cologne. You couldn't even pin down the scent, not exactly. But it's not like she cares... does she?
"Hi," he says, awkwardly chuckling.
"Hi," she reciprocates, tongue in cheek.
"You have something," Zen mentions, thumb swathing over a spot under her eye. Some suds caught on her face. She thanks him under her breath, but his fingers linger.
Maybe it's because the both of them have been filming for a month now, pretending to be a couple for most hours of the day, but something's... changed between the two of them. They'd both been aware of each other years before this -- they're colleagues in the same industry, after all. And while Zen's group MY5TIC topped the charts and outsold venues, MC's group was a little less successful. Being paired up with a star like this not only boosted their records, but inevitably would put her in a tight spot with their fans, too.
So MC knew the risks before agreeing to this gig from her managers. She anticipated the vitriol, the curiosity that would lead to more numbers and engagement on their songs. That perhaps she could prove to these new onlookers that she -- and her group -- is worth staying around for.
But what she didn't anticipate was this. Of being enraptured by Zen's irresistible charm, just like his fans are. Of being endeared by his kindness and confidence, on camera and off camera. And of how much he cares about her, even if it's mostly for show.
She tells herself this is all a lie. That it's for the sake of the show. But now, when them being inches away from each other serves no purpose, yet he still lingers, a part of her thinks otherwise.
"Alright, thanks, you two," a crewmember suddenly says, bursting their bubble. "Good job! Let's take a break?"
"Oh, right," MC says, deliberately tucking herself out of Zen's arm. Zen follows suit, still trying to balance himself out of the bucket. Their clothes are all damp from the water that'd just been sloshed around, so she squeezes out her shirt a little, their feet pattering on the bathroom tile as they wash off the remaining bubbles on their legs with a handheld bidet.
As the water gushes, rinsing them off, Zen looks at her for a moment, his expression almost thoughtful. If MC could let herself daydream, perhaps it resembles tenderness.
"Are you okay?" he asks. And if there's anything she's learned about him this past month of filming, she knows he's being genuine.
"Perfectly fine," MC follows up, unable to look him in the eye. "Just tired. What a workout, huh?"
Zen hums. He's wearing a black shirt -- damp, like the rest of his clothing, the fabric around his stomach sticking to his skin -- and joggers hitched up to his knees. MC's outfit is somewhat similar -- an oversized tee she threw on and some shorts. Presentable enough for the camera, and maybe for thousands to see.
She's already thinking of the comments. Of how much she pales in comparison to this guy in front of her that's so drop-dead gorgeous she should be ashamed to even be in his presence -- no. No, let's not think about that. That's not good.
When MC renders herself clean enough to step out, Zen suddenly speaks. "Careful, babe. You'll slip."
She flinches at the nickname. "We're not filming, you know. You don't need to call me that."
He pulls away from the handheld bidet's trigger, straightening himself. "I know. I just like calling you that." A pause.
"If you're uncomfortable, I'll stop." A shrug, smiling gently. "Don't worry, okay?"
"I'm not..." MC struggles with her words for a bit, barely a foot out of the bathroom. She looks out for a moment, checking to see if any of the crew are listening in. They're huddled in the living room, talking and laughing amongst themselves.
"I'm not uncomfortable," she eventually says, voice still low, just in case. "It's..." She swallows.
"I like it, actually." MC doesn't know what the hell she's saying, but it leaves her mouth anyway. And the confession makes Zen grin wider than anything she's ever seen, as if a beast that's been provoked.
MC sighs. "But you shouldn't say it in front of anyone. They'll think that..."
"Think what?" He's taken a step forward now, and it's like they're back standing on that tub full of their clothes all over again. Close proximity, his breath filling her lungs. Dangerous, but unintentionally so.
"Think that I'm serious? That I like you, for real?" Zen crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame now. She only realizes she's backed away when he does so.
"Yes. I don't know if this is you method acting or whatever, but I just --" MC starts again, but is unsure of what she wants to convey next.
She eventually settles on, "I don't like when things teeter onto real life. Because it makes me think this is real."
Zen's cocky grin never leaves him, so much that it pisses MC off. How can he still look so perfect, even when he annoys her?
"D'you know..." he trails off, looking down at their feet in that casual, Zen-like way he always does. MC can catch his silver eyelashes, pale, just like the rest of his hair.
"What if I say that, maybe for me, it does feel real?" His voice is low, almost as if he, too, is trying to keep this a secret. It shocks her, nails her in her place, at least for a moment. Her heart is in her throat. What can she even say to that?
A beat passes before Zen finally looks up to meet her eye, smiling, casually. As if everything is so easy. "But I guess that's kind of an impossible thing to do anything with, huh?"
"Zen," MC breathes, "I--"
"You two!" A crewmate calls. Zen's manager. "Get over here before the sandwiches finish themselves!"
MC is still in a daze. She fights to get out another word, rearranging her current thoughts into something else, something more coherent, but Zen speaks first.
He takes a step forward, walking past her. But not before he places a hand on her arm, careful, giving her a knowing look. As if to say I know, more than anyone, how you feel about this. About us. And it's okay.
MC lets him go. Her fists clench, everything inside bursting with sirens and chaos. Zen's confession feels like a fresh wound, of things uncertain and painful, yet filled with the kind of softness and care that she hasn't felt in what feels like forever.
But still impossible. Still an ache that can't subside.
She looks back at him, watching him taking a seat amongst their small team for today (you can only fit so many people in a flat) as he takes a sandwich, thanking everyone for their hard work.
No, it won't. MC sighs, finally walking into the living room. It's absolutely not going to be okay.
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