Hyeong-Jun hoped his makeup wouldn’t melt under the heavy lights currently aimed at him.
He watched as Photographer Doo, a wiry man with a pencil moustache, busied himself with his camera while assistants bustled about the small set that had been assembled.
Han Tae-Gyung had teased Yang MinHwan for being the only one with slight sleeves while everyone else had voiced their gratefulness for their sleeveless tops in the heat of the day.
The designs of the concept photoshoot outfits were surprisingly modern when compared to their MV outfits. Apparently they’d been sourced and then embroidered, but the black shirt and pants sat so snugly against Hyeong-Jun’s skin that it might as well have been tailored…hopefully the black hid sweat stains.
Almost by silent agreement, none of the group had dared to move since Photographer Doo had originally organised them, fearing they’d ruin something if they dared to move even an inch.
Finally Photographer Doo looked up only to frown at them.
Hyeong-Jun tensed.
With a few muttered words from Photographer Doo, his assistant hurried forward and made quick work of straightening out everyone’s clothes.
All of the outfits had either feather or wing embroidered designs that combined the different colours of their MV outfits. Hyeong-Jun could only guess it would look slightly odd if the full embroidery work wasn’t visible.
Hyeong-Jun counted himself lucky. His design had embroidered feathers capping his shoulders, so the adjusting hands didn’t linger too long on him.
Lee Junho was not as lucky. He had feathers embroidered in a falling pattern on his trousers and Hyeong-Jun saw his eyes widen in alarm as the material was tugged. And Choi SongHua for his part made a strange noise that had Han Tae-Gyung snorting in response.
Photographer Doo glared.
Hyeong-Jun didn’t dare look but he couldn’t help feeling curious. Choi SongHua’s shirt design made it look like he had a wing wrapped around his torso, so why would－wait…was he ticklish? It was an absurd thought, but the idea amused him nonetheless.
“Turn him more,” Photographer Doo instructed as he pointed to Yang MinHwan who had his back to him. He’d been forced to look almost completely over his shoulder to show off the wing design on the back of his shirt.
“Alright that’s enough,” Photographer Doo called as he lifted his camera to peer through the lens.
“Hyeong-Jun-ssi, lower your right shoulder and push your left one up and forward.”
Hyeong-Jun tried to follow the instructions. A muscle in his neck complained at the contorted position.
“Tae-Gyung-ssi, your hand looks strange, either hide it or adjust it.”
Hyeong-Jun resisted the urge to turn to look at what the photographer’s definition of “strange” was.
“Hold it like that.” Hyeong-Jun was pretty sure they had been holding it like that.
Finally, a series of flashes blinded Hyeong-Jun as the camera went off. His eyes had to be open on at least one of them…right?
“Again.”
His brow ached slightly with the effort of maintaining the “smoldering mysterious look” Photographer Doo had instructed them to wear.
White dots danced around in front of his eyes as the flash clicked off repeatedly.
“Remember your positions while we get the material ready.”
Hyeong-Jun’s body sagged together as soon as the words reached him, and a distant part of him wondered if he would be able to reassembled himself once the mysterious “material” was ready.
He glanced over his shoulder to where assistants were rushing around. The “material” was indeed just a massive piece of cloth draped over the green screen behind them. To Hyeong-Jun’s surprise the movement of it revealed a iridescent shimmer in what he’d thought was simple black fabric.
The lights dimmed slightly.
“Positions,” Photographer Doo said.
Hyeong-Jun pushed his shoulder into place, arching his back slightly in an attempt to ease the strain.
“Ready.” Photographer Doo’s voice was sharp with impatience.
The darkened room only served to intensify the flash. By the time it stopped, Hyeong-Jun had acquired the ability to see stars.
“Unit and the individual shots, next,” Photographer Doo declared, eyes on the screen of his camera.
There was a flurry of activity as they were pulled back to the makeup tables for touch-ups and Hyeong-Jun found his ear being manhandled as an ornate feather ear-cuff and a single hanging pearl earring was slipped into place.
Hyeong-Jun’s neck heated as the makeup artist set about blotting out all the shininess that had surfaced on his skin under the harsh lights.
“Sorry.” He couldn’t help but apologize.
The makeup artist simply shook her head. “It’s normal.”
Hyeong-Jun glanced over at the others, slightly envious as Han Tae-Gyung was handed a sword with a green stone in it. Lee Junho for his part was handed an ornately painted red umbrella with gold accents, and Yang MinHwan received a similarly adorned golden hand-fan.
The only person who Hyeong-Jun felt camaraderie with was Choi SongHua, whose hair was being aggressively pinned to keep two golden, jewel studded hair combs he’d been given, in place.
“MinHwan-ssi, Tae-Gyung-ssi and Junho-ssi, you’re unit one.”
“Hyeong-Jun-ssi, Seonghwa-ssi, you’re unit two.”
Hyeong-Jun almost nodded but a hand on his shoulder reminded him that the hairstylist was still busy.
The makeup artist returned, touching up Hyeong-Jun’s eyebrows.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement as Lee Junho, Han Tae-Gyung and Yang MinHwan were hustled into place. Hyeong-Jun dared not turn his face or risk losing his eyes to the makeup artist’s brow brush.
Soon the sound of the camera shuttering filled the room again and Hyeong-Jun gratefully closed his eyes against the light while he waited his turn.
By the time he and Choi SongHua were in front of the camera again, Hyeong-Jun felt like a proper peacock instead of a phoenix. He smiled slightly, finding an unreasonable amount of joy in the stupid joke. Was he really that tired?
“Yes, keep that right there,” Hyeong-Jun froze at the instruction, expression faltering slightly before he tried to pull it back, fearful that he’d ruined “the effect”.
A flash.
“Now that’s what you call a smirk!” Hyeong-Jun hadn’t thought it possible but Photographer Doo sounded both exasperated and pleased.
“What were you ‘smirking’ about?” Choi SongHua asked out of the corner of his mouth once Photographer Doo’s head was bowed over his camera.
Hyeong-Jun hesitated, neck burning with a blush. Would it be obvious on camera?
“Um…”
Photographer Doo shifted.
“I just thought I looked more like a peacock than a phoenix,” the words slipped out, a whisper, as Photographer Doo’s camera was leveled at them again.
“Double smirk?” Photographer Doo said as the camera shuttered.
Double smirk? Had Choi SongHua enjoyed his joke?
“Next pose.”
Hyeong-Jun shifted slightly, uncertain.
“Show me sensuality,” Hyeong-Jun blanked and could only resort to trying to “smolder” at the camera again. “No that’s a glare.”
“Show me the smirk again.” Hyeong-Jun swallowed and tried to summon the “smirk” again. If the frown on Photographer Doo’s face was anything to go by, he failed.
“Yes, Seonghwa-ssi. Hyeong-Jun-ssi, see how Seonghwa-ssi does it.”
Hyeong-Jun turned, eyes finding Choi SongHua’s face. His dark eyes focused on the camera, thumb resting on his bottom lip.
There was that same powerful imposing air around him that Hyeong-Jun had seen on the day of the audition.
“Wait, hold that.”
Hyeong-Jun’s body locked in place, afraid to even breathe lest he ruin whatever he’d accidentally managed to achieve.
A flash.
As Hyeong-Jun watched, one of the hair combs that had been so carefully pinned into Choi SongHua’s hair, started coming loose.
Before Hyeong-Jun could think it through, he’d reached up － hand coming up to hold the hair and comb in place before any more of it could come undone.
The camera flashed.
Startled brown eyes met his own.
“What was that!” Hyeong-Jun wanted to cringe away from Photographer Doo’s upset voice cracking through the air, but the stylists were back around them. They took over from where Hyeong-Jun had caught the comb. He’d almost jerked away, almost undone the very thing he’d attempted to save.
“Woo-hoo! Quick reflexes Hyeong-Jun-ssi!” Lee Jun-ho exclaimed from somewhere to Hyeong-Jun’s right.
Hyeong-Jun’s neck burned with embarrassment. Damn the stupid peacock joke.
