*_box full of sharp objects
@yahang // park jinho and ???
at first it’s just a dull throb, but by noon it’s a full blown migraine.
or, that’s what he tells himself since he’s never quite distinguished a migraine from a really bad, prolonged headache. plus, when he tells people he’s got a bad migraine--they’re more prone to shoot him a sympathetic look and leave him alone. normally jinho likes his co-workers. they’re people he’s worked with almost too many times to count because it’s quite literally, all about the connections with his line of work. it’s never bad to know too many people but right now, he wishes he didn’t know anyone. at least until this headache is gone--sorry, migraine.
the lead executes the choreography nicely. they’d been sloppy when jinho had first started working with them, but by now their punches are properly faked out and their feet positioning isn’t quite so awkward. it gives him enough to work with so that when he starts executing the flips, leaps, and stunts, the editing team won’t have such a hard time faking it all together.
his brain rackets against his skull. it’s incessant, and he takes another sip of his water before he has his second check his harnesses. jinho walks over to the edge of the building, checking that all the cameras are in their proper places, and then looks straight down to where the huge inflatable crash pad is roaring with pumping air. his vision spins for a second. that’s not good. in any scenario--especially this one.
but the prop master hands him a glock and jinho walks to his mark right near the edge. he greets his co-worker, another stunt guy that he’d actually referred to this production, and lets him wring his hand in his own shirt, identical to the one that the lead’s wearing.
except for the fact that that guy is standing behind the camera planted up on the roof and he’s the one only 4 centimeters from the edge of the building.
the adrenaline starts pumping (which is normal), and the blood between his ears roar (which is not). god, this thing is a fucking pain.
it’s action before he realizes, and he appropriately struggles with the thug, twisting out of his hold before fake knocking his elbow into the guy’s side. a fake deliberation, head whipping back to the edge before looking at the backup that’s approaching (wait for them to move into camera, wait for the signal--).
and he jumps.
with the heada--migraine still drilling holes into his skull.
“are you crazy?”
he swears he hears a voice. if that’s the reason for the pounding up there, then at least there’s a reason for that. jinho tucks his gun into its holster, flattening out his body so that there’ll be as even of a weight distribution as possible, and then makes the mistake of looking to his left where there’s someone else falling next to him.
they don’t have the proper wiring.
it’s the first thing he thinks of before he’s suddenly somewhere else and not falling off the side of a building.
“where the hell am i?” jinho grabs at himself, patting his biceps, his thighs, and then his head. he’s wearing the same clothes, but the wind isn’t whipping at it. but he blinks and then he’s still falling. “who are you? how’d you get here?”
