A/N: Due to personal reasons, my updates have slowed down considerably. I still plan on finishing this fic. I cross post on AO3 and under Chapter 33 I posted that information as a sort of hiatus announcement. As such, I will be naming this chapter "Chapter 34" because on AO3 this will be posted as such and I want to keep things the same. Also, if you're still reading, please let me know! I never get any comments here on so I'm not sure if I should even bother to keep posting here lol

Zen's POV

When I arrive at the sweeping front steps of the National Theater, I am breathless and sweaty, my sides splitting from the strain of my panicked running from miles away. There is barely any sun left - just a strip of blood orange tinting the tall buildings and clouds - and the stairway looks dark. Ominous. Not a good sign, but why would I let that stop me?

"Fuck," I pant under my breath as I lean my hands onto my knees, desperate to catch my breath a bit before I go in.

And I allow myself one, two seconds, and then I'm on the move again. My calves and quads hold steady as I climb the two levels up, and I take a moment to appreciate every leg day I've ever done.

At the top, I rush to the door, but find it locked.

"Shit, shit, shit…"

I see someone passing by inside, and immediately bang on the glass as loud as I safely can. A young woman with a clipboard turns towards me, her eyes shrouded by thick brown bangs. I put on my most pleading face and wave her over frantically. She hesitates, but approaches, pulling keys out of a pocket of her huge beige sweater. I heave a sigh of relief as she unlocks the door and cracks it open.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes! I need to speak with the director or the casting director about my audition tomorrow. Are they still here?" I give her a warm smile infused with a touch of puppy-dog eyes.

"That's not usually allowed," she murmurs, but her tone is still light, friendly. "You're an actor?"

"Yes," I answer quickly. "My name is Zen. I have… had an audition at noon tomorrow for the Monster of the Opera."

Her long bangs cover even more of her small face as she looks down at her clipboard, flipping through the pages. "Ah, yes, Zen. I see you listed here… But as I said, we don't normally allow prospective actors to speak with the directors before auditions."

"Please," I beg. "They canceled my audition, but I don't know why. I've been rehearsing for weeks, and I know it's a longshot, but I just want my chance. I just want to audition. Please," I draw out the word and grip the door's edge.

She tilts her head towards my hand, knuckles white from desperation, then back up towards my eyes. "They canceled your audition?"

"Yes. Someone just called, and I ran all the way here. Please."

I watch the gears turning as her lips contort over the decision, but finally she gives a warm smile and pushes the door open. "Alright. I'll take you to the director's office. But I'm not sure if they'll see you."

I practically fall forward in relief at getting past this first hurdle. "Thank you," I breathe out, stepping into the building and to the side as she relocks the door behind me.

"Quickly! They won't be here for much longer." She takes off with rapid footsteps towards a side hallway.

I follow behind her as we weave through the corridors, barely aware of anything except the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. When she finally stops in front of a closed door, the nameplate indicating it's the director's office, I focus in on the light shining through beneath the crack. That means he's still here, right?

She knocks, pausing, and then I hear a deep voice from inside the door.

"Yes? Come in."

"Give me just a moment," she says, bowing slightly as she slips inside the room, leaving me in the hallway.

I fidget in place, closing my eyes and hoping to make out the muffled conversation going on inside, though nothing I hear sounds coherent. Come on, Zen… You can do this! You just need to convince them to let you audition. They probably think you're not a good fit for the role, but you can go over your research and subtle changes to the song, and-

The door swings open suddenly, the young woman smiling up at me. "The director says you can speak with him. The casting director is already in there as well. Good luck, I'll be rooting for you," she says, doing a cute little arm pump that makes her oversized sweater and huge bangs bounce.

I heave out a huge sigh in relief and do a deep bow. "Thank you, thank you!" Steadying myself first, I knock lightly on the door and step inside.

"Zen," drawls the deep voice of the famous theater director Jung-ho Cho.

I turn towards his voice and immediately fall forward, this time into a full 90 degree bow. "Sir! I apologize for my showing up all of a sudden, I just…" I trail off, still staying bent over in the hopes my intrusion doesn't come off as too egregiously rude.

"Wanted to fight for your audition?" questions the soft voice of what sounds like an older man.

I look up hesitantly, seeing the other man sitting in the chair opposite the director's desk, and realizing this must be the renowned casting director Young-soo Gim, who's been in this business for over 50 years. I bow to him as well, before murmuring a gentle, "Yes, sir."

"Told you," the old man says with a chuckle and a glance at his colleague.

"You're wasting your time," says the director, his words and tone cutting me like a knife.

My chest heaves with sharp breaths, a part of my spirit crushed. But… I stand straight, speaking firmly as I say, "I know I don't match the traditional look for the role, but I've really put a lot of work into my representation of this character, and I feel I at least deserve an audition! I can prove it to you, if you just let me audition. And, to be honest sirs, I don't understand at all why I've been canceled. I've been on this roster for a month now, and the whole time you've had my headshots. What could have changed?"

The director's eyes narrow as his lips set into a grimace, but the older casting director has the opposite reaction, leaning back and smiling.

"What changed, young man," Young-soo Gim begins, eyes twinkling, "is public perception." He pauses here, while I mentally scramble. "I have to say, I was excited to see how you planned to play the monster. I wasn't sure it would work…" he grumbles, "but I was curious. All my years, I've never seen such a young and handsome lad play that role."

"I'm sorry, sir, but public perception… What do you mean?"

"Certainly you're aware of the rumors circulating about you?" snaps the director, more of a statement than a question.

"About the attempted kidnapping…?" I murmur. "I didn't think-"

"About you and a certain Jumin Han," interrupts Director Cho, tone still with a steep edge.

My jaw drops. Rumors about me and Jumin? No, but… why? How did we slip up?

"Jung-ho, take it easy on the poor lad." The casting director spins his chair to face me better and leans forward. The wrinkles around his eyes crease as he gives me a kind smile. "They're just rumors, lad, but unfortunately for you, our primary sponsors are very strict about the public perception of the theater and its big names. If you got this lead role while the tabloids are circulating talk of you being in a romantic relationship with another man, they could withdraw their support."

The convenience store bag of snacks slips from my fingers as my thoughts scramble with this new information. Silently struggling, I awkwardly crouch down to pick up the items that fell out, waiting for my brain to catch up.

I never even suspected things could go this route. My audition was canceled because of rumors? Of me and Jumin? Where did they even come from? And even if there are rumors, for it to be enough to cancel my audition…? I've worked in theater for years, and plenty of my fellow actors are gay. I know they tend to be hush hush about it, but… is this why?

My silver bangs fall in my face as I stare at the floor, anger bubbling up inside me as I replace the final item into the bag. Before I can stop myself, I find myself mumbling "I never thought that the National Theater would be so homophobic. That the esteemed Jung-ho Cho and Young-soo Gim, who are like heroes to so many in this industry, would be so homophobic."

"Watch your tongue, boy," snaps the deep voice of Direction Cho.

"Zen," calls the soft voice of the older man, "please don't misunderstand. I don't want you to become disillusioned with us or this line of business." I stand, picking up my bag, and as soon as my eyes make contact with his, Young-soo Gim continues. "Jung-ho and I don't care about that. Many in the industry are in various sorts of relationships. It's always been that way. And yet, these relationships remain hidden. It is not out of desire, but necessity."

He pauses here to glance at the director, who is currently fiddling with a gold ring around his middle finger. A ring? I think, surprised. But Director Cho has famously never married and is often on the Korean eligible bachelor lists with Jumin. So why would he have a ring and why would Young-soo Gim look at him when talking about hiding these kinds of relationships…? OH. …Oh.

As the realization hits me, the casting director resumes. "Let's say it is true, and you really are in that sort of relationship with Jumin Han," he levels me with a knowing smile before adding lightly, "it wouldn't be any of our business."

"But I don't understand why this is even an issue. We haven't been out anywhere doing anything! How do people know-" Shit, I grit my teeth, backpedaling. "Why do people think… we're together?"

The old man snickers as his eyes crinkle playfully. "Well, that's just it, isn't it? You haven't been anywhere. You've been living together and hardly ever are seen out and about. People's imaginations run wild, you see?"

Embarrassment surges through me as his meaning sets in. I turn my eyes to the floor, unable to still look at them as I realize what everyone is imagining is exactly what has been happening.

"It seems the rumors began after the kidnapping," grumbles the director with a sigh. "Understand, boy, that when Korea's richest and most eligible bachelor, who is known to have zero interest in relationships, sends an army to your rescue, is spotted hugging you, starts missing work to stay home with you… gossip will occur. If, perhaps, the kidnapping was never broadcasted widely as it was, fewer people would have taken notice of you two or your relationship. But now… as things are… you two are a hot topic. Why, just before we made the final decision to cancel your audition, we double checked what the tabloids were saying, hopeful the interest was beginning to die down… but here. See?"

He types a few keys into his keyboard, then swings his monitor around. I step up nervously, then lean forward to see an image of me stepping out the elevator at Jumin's. Based on what I'm wearing and the time stamp… the image is from… tonight?! So that photographer earlier… My eyes dart up to the headline, which reads: 'Actor Zen confirmed to still be living with Jumin Han.' My eyes scan the first couple lines of text beneath the photo. 'Spotted leaving the penthouse for the first time all day, actor Zen seems to have made a permanent move to the home of C&R's own Jumin Han. Jumin Han is well known as the Moby Dick of Korea's dating pool, but it seems Zen may have finally netted this corporate giant. While neither is known to be gay, both were-"

Director Cho swivels the monitor back towards himself and leans back in his chair, arms crossed, with a deep sigh. "It had just been posted before we made the call to cancel your audition, and even now the article has already gained a lot of traction and comments." He leans forward then, a sadness pushing through the contrite anger that filled his face before. "We've already received multiple warnings from our biggest sponsors to… well, to not allow in people like that. Like me. Obviously we do," he waves his hands towards himself, "but we must stay out of the limelight. You seem like a very promising young actor, Zen. But," he adds, his eyes and volume dropping in unison, "the theater cannot run without the sponsors."

"I suggested that if Mr. Han pledged himself as a regular sponsor, it would be more than worth it to cast you in the role," says the old man in a sly voice, "but Jung-ho shot that down."

"No," I say quickly, harshly, disgust pulling at my lips. "I'm not having Jumin buy my way in."

For the first time, I see a small smile crack the director's solemn expression. "Look. Come in for your audition tomorrow. I doubt you'll be our top pick for the monster anyway, but if you are… then your next challenge will be the tabloids. If you can get the heat off you two, we could reconsider hiring you. Perhaps move out and cut visible contact for a while and the rumors might die down. But Zen," his tone deepens, "you have to decide what matters more to you. Be careful that what you give up is worth it."

In a haze of emotions, my body moves step by step through the darkening night back to my apartment. Back… home. Home? A sinking feeling in my gut tells me that's the wrong word, even as I pull out my keys. I never expected to use them tonight, but I'm thankful I brought them with my wallet out of habit.

I swing open my door and flip the light on, only to be met with a sense of unfamiliarity. The place is stuffy. Dirty boot tracks from the incident cover the floor, especially heading back towards the bedroom. But as I step inside, as I move throughout my living room, my kitchen, my bedroom… which I've lived in for years after I struggled to get this place and to keep it… it no longer feels right. It feels small. It feels empty. It feels… distant, as if I'm only here in a dream, not reality.

I lean against my bedroom door frame and stare at my bed, imagining sleeping there alone tonight. It should be normal. I should feel relief being back here- but I don't.

"Shit…" I grumble. My hand slides up through my bangs until I can rub my temple with the heel of my palm. "Fuck!" I bounce in place, teetering on the edge of wanting to open a hole in the wall with my fist.

Before I act on my rising urge, I storm into the kitchen. I dump the convenience store bag of snacks in my trash can, most of them ruined from either the lack of refrigeration or by the sticky residue of the ones that melted, and go for a different source of comfort. In the small, top drawer at the edge of the counter is my mental tranquilizer - my Black Angel cigarettes.

Grabbing the pack and my lighter, I head out to the rooftop access, no longer able to handle the stale air of my apartment. Up the steps and away I quickly climb, begging for a slice of calm. A quieting to the cryptic chatter of my thoughts. Once the fresh air of the city hits my face and I can breathe again, I stuff my lungs with my cigarette smoke. I exhale after a deep drag, my mind finally shutting up for two fucking seconds. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. But the calm that usually comes doesn't set in, even with the first stars of the night beginning to twinkle above me, and I only get a few more puffs in before my fresh anxieties begin digging their way forward again.

Fuck! This is bullshit. So, what? I leave and move back here…? Damnit, how did that trust fund penthouse start to feel like home so quickly after I've lived here for almost half my life? Fuck! Honestly, I guess it's weird that we're living together right now anyway. That's probably why our relationship is moving so fast.

I mentally skate through memories of the past week. So many moments with Jumin I never even imagined possible. So much love, affection, and affirmation packed into such a short time. So much sex and intimacy.

I blow out a slow breath, the smoke slowly dissipating as it lingers around me in the windless evening sky. Why is it always a choice? Director Cho… Jaehee… It's love OR acting. It's Jumin OR my career. Jumin said I didn't have to choose. Jumin said I could have both, and he'd support me. He said he'd wait until I'm ready to come out with our relationship. So why do I feel like I'm being forced to choose, and choose right now, today?

My head slumps down and my feet start tapping with restless rage. I feel like I'm about to explode after being drawn and quartered by my heart and my passion.

The Director's words ring in my head. 'You have to decide what matters more to you. Be careful that what you give up is worth it.'

I take a final, deep drag on my cig and then shove it down into the planter functioning as a makeshift ashtray, twisting it into the dirt. In my anger, I push too hard, knocking the planter over and spilling the dirt and many cigarette butts on the concrete.

"RAAHH!" The scream slips out before I can control myself, the built up rage and frustration too much to handle.

I can't do it. I can't be here anymore. The anxiety inside me is fuming and ready to burst. I need an outlet.

With all the tension concentrated in my muscles, I launch myself down the stairs at lightning speed. In seconds, I'm outside, my eyes scanning wildly as I make the trek to where my bike is still parked. As I approach, I see the spot across the street where the tent was last week, and it's gone. No sign or sound of anyone this time, not even a stray dog. But thoughts of last week only lead me back to Jumin, and back to the predicament I'm currently in. And I can't handle that right now.

I swing my leg over the seat of my motorcycle and settle in, ready to relieve this tension with the blurring lights of the city in my rearview. I turn the key, feeling the familiar rumble beneath me, and grit my teeth as I rev up for a much needed ride.