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"Does it—" Mingyu's voice dropped. "Does it come off in one piece, or—"
"Very carefully," Wonwoo said, and he was somewhat proud of how level his voice remained, given that Mingyu was now tracing back inward along the other collarbone, the pad of his finger warm and unhurried against Wonwoo's skin. "It took the stylist three hours to put together. Every chain is attached to every other chain. If you pull the wrong thing—"
"What happens?"
"The whole thing goes."
Mingyu was quiet for a moment. His finger stilled at the center of Wonwoo's throat, right at the hollow between his collarbones.
Then he pressed, the gentlest possible pressure, and Wonwoo's breath caught.
"That would be a shame," Mingyu said. He didn't sound particularly concerned.
✦ ✦ ✦
The shoot ran long. The coat was still on. The lace was still intact — for now. Mingyu came to ask about dinner and forgot every word he knew. What follows is the natural, inevitable, catastrophic conclusion of too much tension held for too long — and the aftermath, which involves a very tired Seungcheol, one destroyed stylist's masterpiece, and Jeonghan, who finds all of it deeply, personally delightful.