Lain thought he'd probably never get used to it. His reflection had a glazed expression, and he felt slightly sick. The stylist quickly dabbed makeup on his cheeks, hiding the paleness from nerves. His skin was clammy from the sweat that inevitably broke out when he was in this state, so that the makeup felt disagreeably sticky.
The stylist extended and curled his lashes, murmuring about how pretty he was. He watched the femininity of his features get accentuated with apathetic resignation. He was the 'flower boy', the visual, the 'bishonen' their fans in Japan squealed over. His looks cast him into the role. He was dreading the day he'd have to actually dress up and do a girl group dance, or the day he'd get shipped with another member of their group as the 'girl' or the 'uke' or something. Still, it could been worse. This recent album had a pop-rock concept and the stylist had done a pretty good job with the whole androgynous rocker look. His outfit appealed to him. Unlike a previous era he always remembered and repressed with a shudder as the days of their 'sweet' image, of pastel pants and aegyo overload in their MVs.
The door flew open and their manager popped her head in, harried. "Okay, so the show's in ten minutes. I know we didn't script or plan anything at all for stage epilogue but there's going to be a tension escalator, and I've got the order here," she thrust out a piece of paper and Ju-Kan, their leader, took it. His eyes traveled down the list, and he said aloud, "What exactly is a tension escalator though..." but the manager was already gone.
Lain's stylist spoke. "Basically you guys line up according to the order, and start the sexual tension. Like suppose Lain is first, then Ju-Kan, then Haneul. Lain grabs Ju-Kan's hair and looks into his eyes intensely. Ju-Kan's turn. He has to escalate it with Haneul, it has to be hotter than the previous turn. So maybe he pins him against a wall..." her hand was suspended with the mascara brush as she gazed into the mirror, absorbed in her imaginings, like she'd been a latent fangirl all this while. "And then Haneul..."
"Thanks, Noona," said Haneul, the rapper, hastily. But she didn't seem to hear as she continued, "But then Tae will be last, so he'll have no partner, he'll have to do it to the fans, but he'll have to do it the most hardcore, and that's not right because he's the innocent maknae!" Haneul grabbed the paper from Ju-Kan as the leader said, "I'm not pinning anybody against any walls."
"You won't have to. It's an open stage, there aren't any walls," smirked Lain, and Ju-Kan gave him a death glare. Haneul began reading out the order backwards. "Lain is last!" he hooted. "Tae must do it to Lain," he paused and waggled his eyebrows glancing from one to the other, "Ju-Kan must do it to Tae," his eyes swiveled between them and he went 'oooh!' and Lain rested his forehead in his palm while the stylist still stood with mascara in midair, apparently indulging in more imaginings according to the actual order now being revealed. "I must do it to Ju-Kan." He made a face. "Aw, maaaaan."
"Don't you dare complain! You're FIRST! You can probably get away with just tilting his chin towards you." Lain avoided Tae's eye as he snapped at Haneul. They'd done fanservice before, like the Pepero game, but this was the first time they were doing something like this, and it wasn't at all helping the churning in his stomach.
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