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The event turned out to be boring and terribly long. Jeong-jae and Byung-hun slouched back in their chairs, occasionally exchanging brief words while waiting for their turn to take the stage.
They had been invited to the awards as honored guests—to present an award in one of the categories and to strengthen intercultural ties. Essentially, they were acting as ambassadors. Though it was highly prestigious, and both understood that, they still felt out of place. Among dozens of unfamiliar people of another nationality and language, they seemed like grains of sand in an ocean, foreigners, and so they huddled closer together.
The strange categories dragged on endlessly: people went up on stage, said something, the audience laughed, applauded, and nodded approvingly, while they could only try to blend into the crowd. Periodically, the presentations were interrupted with songs. Jeong-jae liked Katy Perry's performance so much that he couldn't resist filming a short video, and at the end, he switched to front camera to capture the moment with Byung-hun.
Byung-hun immediately looked at the phone, flashed a wide smile, and waved at the lens.
After five hours, they finally took the stage.
Glancing awkwardly at each other, they stepped up to the podium and said a few kind words. Jeong-jae struggled with it, but he tried his best. Byung-hun's face showed he was proud of him. He himself handled his much longer speech with ease and tried to tear open the envelope with the winner's name. As luck would have it, the envelope wouldn't give—the weird paper stubbornly resisted.
With Jeong-jae's help, he finally managed to open it. And here's the mishap again: the winner was an Egyptian series with a title only God could pronounce.
Byung-hun smiled awkwardly and announced the winner as best he could. A whole crowd of actors immediately rushed onto the stage—they made a very long speech, occasionally glancing their way. Wonder what they were saying? Cause not a word was understandable.
After standing on stage for another twenty minutes, they finally retreated backstage, where Byung-hun congratulated them again in English, and Jeong-jae just nodded modestly, standing nearby.
Finally, they were free—now they just had to slip away unnoticed so they wouldn't be dragged back to the hall! Byung-hun felt more confident at such events and, tugging Jeong-jae by the sleeve, nodded toward the door.
Giggling quietly, they looked like students sneaking out of class. Striding confidently through a couple of corridors, they found themselves on the street. Byung-hun pulled out his phone and quickly called his driver.
"To the hotel, now!" he turned to Jeong-jae. "God, I'm exhausted!"
"When are you leaving?" Jeong-jae stretched, loosening his stiff muscles, and stepped closer.
"Tomorrow, of course. You?"
"Me too, in the afternoon."
"To Korea?" Byung-hun asked, peering around the corner where the car should appear.
"Yeah... And you to the US?"
"Yeah..."
Jeong-jae didn't reply, just let out a short sigh.
Finally, their Mercedes appeared from around the corner. Byung-hun jumped in almost on the move, scooting over to make room for Jeong-jae.
Half an hour later, they were there, in one of the best hotels, of course in luxury suites. And how nice that these suites were on the same floor, almost next to each other.
Byung-hun's room was first, and Jeong-jae awkwardly froze at the door, waiting while he fumbled for the key card.
Byung-hun paused, then turned to him:
"Want to come in? We'll drink, order some food."
"Yeah..." Jeong-jae drawled with relief. "And talk. When will we see each other again?.."
Byung-hun nodded, letting him go ahead:
"Take a shower while I order," he offered kindly as the door clicked shut.
Jeong-jae nodded with a look of "You read my mind!" and headed to the bathroom.
"There's extra slippers, a second robe, and towels!" Byung-hun called after him.
A minute later, the sound of running water came from behind the wall.
Byung-hun sank wearily into the armchair by the phone and called reception:
"Yes... Pasta, Caesar salad, fruit basket, and wine. A couple of bottles. Room 304. Thanks."
The food arrived faster than Jeong-jae exited the bathroom. When he did, the table was overflowing with dishes—they'd even brought a serving of local desserts for honored guests. There was enough to feed ten people easily.
"Wow," Jeong-jae drawled, eyeing the table.
"Yeah, they love us," Byung-hun smirked. "Or they saw how skinny you are." He laughed at his own joke, as usual, and lightly bumped Jeong-jae's shoulder before heading off to shower himself.
----
Finally, both clean and refreshed in light robes, they settled at the laden table. So casually, like old friends. And they were old friends! Acquainted for 30 years, but life had only brought them close in recent years. To be precise, the last two years, since filming season 2 of Squid Game. Since then, they'd been nearly inseparable: fans and colleagues saw them as one. It didn't bother them—it amused and surprised them. So much fun at their age...
"Too bad about the Golden Globes," Jeong-jae remarked, sipping his wine. "You were the most deserving, for sure!"
"You watched my movie?" Byung-hun raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Of course! Why does that surprise you?"
"With our schedules, it's hard to find time... I still haven't watched your new series, shame on me," Byung-hun confessed, feigning sorrow.
"No worries, it doesn't compare to No other choice—just a light rom-com."
"I promise I'll watch. You acted great, I'm sure."
Jeong-jae blushed and looked down, his cheeks slightly pink. Embarrassment or the wine, who knows.
Byung-hun loved teasing him, loved how cutely he blushed, how awkwardly he spoke English. Like a teenager in a old man's body. Sure that was his unique charm.
"More wine?"
Jeong-jae nodded. He got tipsy quickly but never rejected a refill. The alcohol had already hit his head, but his hand reached for the glass anyway.
"I'd like... well... to act together again. As we talked before."
"Me too. Action? Detective?"
"No," Jeong-jae stood up, paced the room, and stopped by the huge bed. "Mind if I...?" he glanced at Byung-hun. "Dizzy a bit."
Byung-hun nodded, waving his hand. He needed to lie down himself. Jeong-jae fell onto the soft mattress with a sigh, spreading his arms wide.
"It'd be a drama. Maybe a melodrama?"
"That'd be some Brokeback Mountain," Byung-hun muttered, finishing his glass.
"Good movie..." Jeong-jae yawned. Lying in bed, he fought sleep with all his might. "Would you act in something like that?"
"Why not?"
Byung-hun rose and approached the bed. Jeong-jae couldn't even just lie there without looking like a masterpiece. Slender wrists peeking from his sleeves, relaxed face with half-closed eyes, and bright red lips. Yeah, he could star... in a movie like that.
"What if I say no," Byung-hun whispered, lying down beside him, "would you act with someone else?"
Jeong-jae turned his head, his gaze turning serious. His eyes slid over Byung-hun's face, lingering on his lips.
"Probably not. It's so easy with you. So... amazing..." He rolled onto his side, facing him. "Why didn't we hang out sooner?"
Byung-hun wanted to say: "You always had Woo-sung." But he held back.
Jeong-jae inched closer, their faces now separated by centimeters. Tension hung in the air—not awkward, but electric, like before a storm. Byung-hun felt the warmth of his breath, laced with wine and shower gel.
Minutes stretched in silence, broken only by their breathing. Byung-hun lay still, staring at the ceiling where the golden chandelier light cast soft shadows. His heart beat faster—he waited for Jeong-jae to say something, to ease the atmosphere, but he stayed silent, barely breathing. Byung-hun turned his head: Jeong-jae's eyes were closed, a faint smile on his lips.
Byung-hun swallowed, searching for words. Had he fallen asleep? The silence pressed, making his skin burn from the proximity. They lay like that for an eternity, or maybe a minute—time lost count. Jeong-jae finally stirred, shifting closer, their knees brushing under the thin fabric. The touch sparked like fire, but he didn't pull away, just held his breath. Byung-hun turned to face him, their eyes met—Jeong-jae's held a mix of fear and desire, shattering Byung-hun's restraint.
No more words needed. Byung-hun slowly raised his hand, brushing Jeong-jae's cheek with his thumb—gentle, almost weightless. He didn't flinch, just blinked, and Byung-hun leaned in. The kiss was light, chaste, their lips barely touching.
Jeong-jae froze for a moment, eyes widening in surprise, but then responded—timidly, uncertainly, parting his lips and pressing closer. His hand hesitantly settled on Byung-hun's shoulder, fingers digging into the robe for support. The kiss deepened naturally, growing warmer, slower, with a soft sigh escaping Jeong-jae.
Byung-hun pulled back first, just a centimeter, to look into his eyes—doubt was gone, replaced by fire. He trailed his hand down Jeong-jae's neck, lower, untying the robe's belt with a quiet rustle. Jeong-jae didn't resist, arching into it, his breath quickening as his palms slid down Byung-hun's back, tugging at the fabric.
They melted into an embrace, robes slipping to the floor, baring hot, sensitive skin. Byung-hun kissed his neck, collarbones, venturing lower until Jeong-jae gasped his name—hoarse, trembling. Their movements were slow, careful, brimming with tenderness built over years: Byung-hun found the rhythm, whispering passionately, while Jeong-jae answered with moans, clinging to him with his whole body.
Their bodies intertwined in a single surge, sweat and heat mingling, sheets crumpling beneath them. Jeong-jae, forgetting his shyness, pressed closer, his hands roaming Byung-hun's back, nails leaving pink trails. Orgasm crashed over them like a wave—simultaneous, a quiet moan echoing in the room. They stilled, holding each other, hearts pounding in sync.
Then Byung-hun pulled Jeong-jae close, covering them with the blanket. He nestled his face against Byung-hun's shoulder, a smile blooming in the dim light. Their night was just beginning, full of promises/