Chapter Text
“Hurry up.”
The boy group Stray Kids, that Jean Dubois had the absolute misfortune of styling tonight, or actually every concert since their debut.
He had to give it to his boss though, most likely no one else could manage this hectic job position. The eight of them were often a pain, especially Lee Minho, he always ruined the artists’ vision with his annoyance for accessories. If they didn’t have their moments though, Jean would not have stuck around. For the amount of teasing and shit he gives them, they really are polite. The stylist does credit their manners to their leader, Bang Chan, or, Chris Bahng. He always made sure the boys were safe and cared for, but never let them step on staff no matter how awful a day they were having.
Jean had been desensitized to essentially everything at this point.
Countless amounts of rips and tears in fabrics, various fittings were nothing had gotten done, even the member’s bare bums on a few occasions.
Yet, he still blushed while handing Seo Changbin his underwear. three years later.
It was embarrassing, and at the very least, inappropriate. He felt awful having a small crush on one of his clients, but it had never quite gone away. He had first felt the pull on his heart while backstage alone with him, drinking out of a water bottle before he went on to perform “God’s Menu” in late 2020. It was so simple, and that was what made the stylist worried. His reaction to that basic of a motion meant he had it bad. That also meant his feelings had gone detected right under his nose. The age gap made him even guilter, even if it was only four years. He has sobbed over his clothing rack at god knows what time in the morning multiple times, not wanting to loose his job. The stylist loved what he did, and the pay was worth the pins he stabbed into his always bandaid wrapped fingers.
Jean worked hard to get where he was, attending art school for four years after graduating high school in 2013. He can’t even begin to count how many manufacturers, designers, companies, turned down his portfolio at the blink of an eye.
Even if this job wasn’t exactly what he bargained for, he had become extremely comfortable working it.
“It won’t zip Hyung.” Changbin pouted from behind the changing room door. He could see his face now, his lip poked out and his eyebrows knitting together. “Tug harder.” Jean had scissors between his teeth currently, so his speech sounded slurred. Spit pooled below his lip, but he wiped it away before it could fall. Kim Seungmin’s arm had gained a few inches in width since their last event, so the man had to rush to alter the piece, allowing room for the Nylon to stretch without ripping the seams.
Yang Jeongin, the maknae of the group, zipped past dangerously fast in socks. Chan yelled at him to be careful on the linoleum, as he could slip.
“It still won’t zippp” He whined. Rolling his eyes, the older ignored his protests. He had played “pranks” like this before, insisting he come help him when he could’ve easily done it himself. It pissed him off particularly this night, as they were already behind schedule. It was not funny, and if Changbin really needed help he shouldn’t have been the boy who cried wolf.
Seungmin glanced over to how silly Han looked, his hair getting sprayed with some sort of sea salt mixture to bring out his curls. He was munching on an apple happily while staff scrunched up his hair. He swayed his feet, humming “TOPLINE” lightly. Jean thought it was endearing, and secretly seungmin did too, although never admitting it. especially not in-front of him. Han Jisung always seemed to be in his own world, Lee Know often bringing him out of his head.
“Jee, I’m serious.” He peeked his head out at this point, his black hair already sticking straight to his forehead with sweat. “mm-hm.” Jean mused, eyes still trained on Seungmin’s coat. “I don’t think he’s lying this time.” He laughs, looking at his member already sweaty despite not even stepping foot on stage yet. Jean looked up after hearing Seungmin, sighing. “I can’t help you right now. I’m swamped.” He exasperated, finally beginning to believing him. “I’ll help him. I have a minute.” Felix, Jean’s almost guardian angel, appeared from around the green room’s corner, beaming.
Felix Lee, The stylist’s saving grace throughout the stressful days. The man always helped out where he could, always complaining about how the artists are understaffed, and that Jee should definitely have an assistant. He ways responded with ‘They would quit day one.’ laughing despite the truth to the statement. Technically he did have a helper, Choi Imogen. She was the makeup artist, so the two often worked hand and hand, making sure their concepts meshed well. She was a bit cold, but she got the job done. She was adopted as an infant by American parents, despite that her Korean was excellent, moving to Seoul many years ago for her education. She had became Stray Kids’ makeup artist only a few months after Jean was hired on as their Fashion Stylist.
She was always there, backstage, with her makeup case popped open long before anyone else arrived to the venue.
Tonight, the group was performing at Lollapalooza, in France. Jean was thrilled he could come home to visit his home country, but the excitement didn’t carry for long as he had work to do his entire time there. He had hoped to block out an afternoon to visit his favorite cafe, (as he hasn’t for several years), but to no avail.
The boys had successfully gotten Changbin’s fly up in their group effort. He couldn’t stifle the laugh He let out as Seungmin joined them once his jacket had been sewn. The Rapper’s zipper really had been jammed, Jean did have his doubts until Felix couldn’t get it to move despite his muscles flexing roughly, working overtime. It looked as if he would break it, but the second youngest took a different approach, wiggling until the track was free of any stray strands of thread; Success!
“What is going on in here?” Chan finally joined the escapade, leaning onto the frame of the wall with his shoulder.
“Bin couldn’t get his fly up.” Jean laughed. Hwang Hyunjin appeared, already dressed despite Jean never handing him his outfit for the night. The two rolled their eyes at eachother at the same time, dramatic as always. Chan shook his head, retreating to make sure everyone was doing well. It was a routine of his, making his rounds around the dressing room to check up on his members. He always liked to be dressed and finished with makeup and hair first, so he could do so. Jean gave him a pair of pleather shorts he wasn’t sure would hold up, but they sure suited him.
Most of the boys had simple outfits, tank tops and basic bottoms. Seungmin had complained he would be cold so J provided him with a jacket. Its July. It didn’t bother the stylist much, as it still fit him and the energy of the upcoming performance well. Annoyingly though, the rest of them pouted like kids for a coat because Seungmin had one and that just wouldn’t do. It was a lot like babysitting, like Chris had mentioned various times over and over before.
“We have less than five minutes. gather everyone up.” Jean spoke to security and they accompanied the group to the stage with a nod.
“I can’t believe it was actually stuck.” Imogen spoke in english, the glasses low on her nose with a chain that looked handmade swaying lightly. The woman was only in her thirties, but acted as a grumpy grandmother. “You look so old right now.” Jee leaned against the counter, the marble cold on his skin he didn’t realize was on fire until this exact moment. She popped the blinding mirror lights off with a click. “I’m in training.” She stated plainly. She did have siblings, so it was always possible.
“Relax.” She offered comfort, as much as she could at least. The intro for “S-Class” Could be heard, even all the way back there.
She popped open the micellar water, and the makeup wipes, already knowing the members well enough that they’d want their eyeshadow off immediately. Well, maybe not Hyunjin, he would wear his all the way back to the hotel room if it happened to not be sticky and gross after. “What’s your favorite song?” The artist must’ve had nothing better to do, since she was unusually talkative tonight. “Collision.” Jean sipped on a vitamin water idly. He understood her boredom as he was drinking the liquid whilst he wasn’t even thirsty.
“You going to stay to hear it, or get food with me?”
They found themselves at a casual restaurant down the block. The cafe Jean would’ve liked to attend was closed at this time of night, and also multiple miles away, despairingly. He had brought his sketchbook along, sharing sketches with her. If she noticed there was an excessive amount of outfit concepts fitted to Changbin she did not comment.
By the time they got back to the venue less than fifteen minutes later, the boy’s manager was glaring at them. He didn’t know why, but he also did. The companies higher up staff wasn’t the most fond of him, and would make up things out of thin air to be mad at him about. Simply because he was a man. Designing fashion. The only reason he was hired and kept on, is because he is just that good, and they are just salty. It was amazing how well Jean fell in love with their concept ideas, bringing a more physical take to their envisions. He also got on with them quite well, the bickering was all just in fun.
“Bang Chan ripped his pants. You should have told me you were leaving.” He snapped, directed more towards Jean in the first part, then to Jean & Imogen.
Oh. He actually had been in the wrong this time. Everything was weird tonight, apparently.
“He’s in the dressing room. fix it.” He growled at the last part, pinching his nose bridge and walking away swiftly, not allowing either stylist to respond. Imogen was back to her usual self, shrugging her shoulders and sipping on her drink she previously poured in a styrofoam cup at the end of their meal. The concert seemed to be on a pause, and that made Jean feel even worse. He was even worried the material was a bit thin, but he figured it would be fine. It couldn’t be that big of a deal like their manager was making it out to be, but then again he hadn’t assessed the damage yet.
“Go, i’ll talk to that rat.” Her voice was monotone, but even with that she got her point across. They were rushing into the back stage area now. “No, don’t, I don’t want you loosing your job.” Jean crossed his arms back and forth in an ‘x’ motion. Imogen could be ruthless, and the boy’s manager seemed to be in a bad mood tonight, more prone to firing her than most times she has spoken up. “They could never get rid of me.” She tied her hair up, ready to throw hands, but obeyed Jean’s wishes nonetheless.
“I’m so sorry Channie.” The man frowned as he saw him. Pulling his cross body bag off, throwing it somewhere, he pulled one of his clothing racks out in a quick fashion.
He assured him he was alright, and nothing was exposed besides the tiniest sliver of underwear on his inner thigh, and Jean sighed in relief. Not Fired Today! Or right now… at least. The rip seemed to be right on the seam, not how the stylist expected the piece to rip, but much more fixable this way. He would sew it on the plane back to Korea. That seemed to be his only free time now, no room for anything not explicitly needed in their schedule.
This rack held extras, or unfinished pieces. If Jean remembered correctly, he had a trendy pair of cropped joggers in the back. He smiled admist the chaos, and handed the hanger to Chris. Jean bowed, much more formal than he would be with the boys on the regular. It was his own way of saying: ‘I’m Really, Really Sorry.’
In the end, he did get to hear his favorite song off of the album. It sounding extra pumped up, the boys were always happy to be performing for stays. He could hear their cheers as Chan returned to the stage, and the man’s contagious giggles echoed on the microphone.
He never did go out to eat with Imogen during shows again after that, instead, basking in the small glory of the music backstage, always alone, and able to squeal comfortably whenever his favorite member rapped his part.