Page 99 of Damian & Jun, Episodes 9-12
Mi Hi sent Jun a thumbs-up.
Music filled his earpiece, his own voice coming back to him.
When I cry, my tears will taste like wine
Aged beneath the yoke
of all the world’s stage against my throat.
His hips subtly moved with the beat. He opened his eyes, still listening to the track, looking for Damian. His Alpha was standing at the back of the crowd below.
Émeric stepped up, holding an open wine bottle. Mi Hi was brilliant. She’d gotten them sponsorship for this prop.
“Ready.” Jun said. “Everyone stand back.”
Everyone but Richard stepped away. Richard had the main front camera. The side cameras were stationary for this shot.
Mi Hi set the song back several bars. They only had time for one, maybe two takes. Then the setting sun would be perfect for capturing Su-jin dancing in front of the rose window in the balcony at the front and Jaewoong in the window of the baptismal.
Jun moved with the beat, letting the song fill him up, raw as its title.
So many years, so many fears
I was a sarcophagus of un-screamed screams
He started to sing as it hit the section they were recording. “When I cry—” He let the words flow out, grabbing his shirt—artistically pre-ripped—and tore it away down the front, then stared straight at the camera for the next line. “—my tears will taste like”—he lifted the wine, throwing back his head and leaning back, his knees and hips flexing as he poured wine over his face and down his bare torso—“wine.” He looked back at the camera, throwing the bottle. It shattered somewhere to the side. Jun threw himself forward, catching the front edge of the altar with his hands and dropping into a push-up. “Aged beneath the yoke.” He lowered himself down on his bent arms, shaking with the strain of the emotion until the edge of the altar was pressed against his throat. “Of all the world’s stage against my throat.”
One of his hands gave out, slipping in the wine. He fell forward, rolled uncontrolled over the edge, and sprawled out on the floor amongst the debris. His palm burned. For a moment, he was stunned. He looked up slowly, breathing hard, one hand pushing wine-soaked hair out of his face.
Richard was right in front of him. No one had stopped filming even though that had been a mistake.
Jun stood up slowly. “Cut.”
Damian’s stride ate up the floor between the two of them. He grabbed Jun’s hand. Jun looked down. He was bleeding. He reached up. There was blood across his face. “Fuck, do we have to take that again?
“That wasn’t the plan,” Damian growled.”
“Keep it,” Yohei said. “It’s better than the plan.”
Damian ran his hands over Jun’s body, checking the small scratches. “How’s your ankles?”
Jun rotated each foot. “Good.”
“Get that patched up,” Mi Hi said. “We’re going to record Su-jin and Jaewoong before we run out of light.”
Jun gave her a thumbs-up and slumped against Damian. “Fuck. That hurt.”
Damian made an angry sound low in his chest. He tore into the med pack Émeric handed him. “We need to get that clean.”
Jun leaned back against the altar. “I want to see it.”
“It was perfect, especially if you wanted to cut someone’s chest open, like mine.”
Jun laughed, a dark tinge to the sound. Half of him was still lost inside the art he was making. “It felt real.”
“It was.” Damian looked up, meeting Jun’s gaze.
The sense of being seen, truly seen, blazed through him like cold, blue light. He shuddered. He needed this man. Now. He bit at Damian’s lips.
