#blcssom

“it’s also too well made for you to wait for it to go cold.” joonho remarks. a hopeful smile plays on his lips as he wonders when her resistance will wear off and she’ll finally tell him what’s plaguing her mind. it’s what they do. despite their reserved natures, theirs is a friendship they both hold dear enough to let their masks slip and speak their true thoughts aloud. joonho is a private person who keeps most people at arm’s length, but with her, he is his more honest, straightforward self. “oh.” he falters when she reveals the failed audition. “i’m sorry to hear that.” but as far as he knows, there are plenty of possible reasons behind a rejection, and perhaps it has nothing to do with her talent at all. “then that means there’s more room for better opportunities to come along.” he isn’t an optimistic person by nature, but for her sake, he tries to be. he genuinely believes in her and supports her chasing her dream. “i would, but i don’t think you’ll need it,” he reassures with a smile. “besides, i think you’d be too bored after just one day.”

devon bared a dimpled grin, but it stung. his smile was a shallow, brittle thing, hoping to conceal the weird little ache in chest. "yeah, i mean, that always works out for people," devon said, and took an unceremonious gulp of his gin and tonic. "no hard feelings, right? about the, uh—" he made a vague, swirling motion with his hand that could have meant saturday night or the blurry hour in the bathroom after, or the thing devon didn't want to say out loud in case ezra made a face. "it's not like i was expecting a wedding ring or anything. you can chill."

"easy," willow yawned, pinning her cheek to ingrid's bicep, "we'll unionize. refuse to leave the beds till all our demands are met. i read about it on reddit—bed strikes are actually kind of a thing now. we just need a snappier hashtag."

finn did not step back, though erika's nearness forced his gaze downward to meet her eyes. he was acutely aware of the silence—no footmen, no secretaries, just the two of them. his hands were folded behind his back in a tight clasp, knuckles pressed tight enough that a faint pulse ran up his forearms, a physical tether to protocol. "i intend to do as my king instructed, and nothing more," he began, the silence pressing in, interrupted only by the faint clink of chandelier crystals shifting overhead. "the gallery is just ahead. if you wish, i can escort you," he offered, then checked himself. he cleared his throat and evened his voice. "unless you prefer the thrill of navigating moonlight corridors unaccompanied, in which case i am happy to look the other way."

Little projects like this were good for him when Wonderboy needed a vacation. Easy to book, Leo isn't quite top of the call list, but he's got connections to keep his ever-active mind occupied. A life weaving through the industry, a dip into acting every now and again. Anything for inspiration. Entire day of filming down the drain, Leo, arriving several hours late with little memorized. Why bother? Wasn't the first time he'd been spliced in; the last movie had turned out fine. Though he hadn't actually seen it, being more of a t.v. kind of guy. Critics called him capricious, though, that much Leo remembered. The words interested him. Made him wriggle. Their entrance to his trailer is announced by the howls of a small crowd, a mass delighted by a newcomer. "Sour puss," he waves his costar closer, up deep into the night, hugged by people whose names escape him. He likes the look in their eyes, the distance there. That made him wriggle, too. "You calmed down yet? Wanna kiss and make up?"

"do you think that you're within reason to be questioning who i'm dating?" ade was good at seeming composed when he wasn't, when he felt like his entire world was shifting. he supposed his accent helped in that, sounding too posh to be anything but cool and collected. still, he had a smirk on his lips hand pressed to her hips and pushing her up against the shelves. "i guess it just seems ironic when there's a ring on your finger as you do question me."

the stern look she gives margot would be enough to deter anyone on a regular day, but apparently, it’s lost some of its usual edge due to her current state. god, how infuriating. “you can’t tell anyone that because i’m not letting you.” just because she’s holding on to the bottle doesn’t mean she’s suddenly backing down. she’s still stubbornly refusing to drink, even if it would help the parched state of her throat. “aren’t there some kids out there needing a shitty butterfly painted onto their cheek? go help them instead.”

“you’re not bothering me.” and even if he was, she would get into some deep shit with her family if she tried tossing him to the curb before they got home. better to play nice and hopefully, this will all be over soon. one night of pretending. that’s all she needs to get through. “i just don’t have much to say, i guess. i’m not really used to…” a hand waves vaguely, as if 'attention' is a physical thing she can reach out and grab. “i don’t know. being asked questions about myself.”