Y/N's POV
It's been a week.
A full week since I started looking for a new apartment.
I've checked websites. Called agents. Walked around after shoots.
But nothing clicks.
Everything nearby is either overpriced, too far from work, or just… not right.
And the longer I stay in his apartment—
The more dangerous this becomes.
I need to move out.
Soon.
Because if I live with him any longer—
If I keep waking up to the sound of his footsteps, if he keeps bringing me mango juice without asking, if I keep catching him staring at me when he thinks I'm not looking—
My heart won't be able to lie anymore.
Not even to myself.
I can't keep pretending I don't notice how the way he says "Y/N" has softened.
I can't ignore how I started waiting for him to come home.
Or how I wear his hoodie even when I'm alone.
Even the name Rabinie, that stupid nickname I used to roll my eyes at—
Now it lingers like a melody I don't want to stop hearing.
That Rabinie…
He's stuck in my heart.
Still.
Now.
Maybe always.
And that's exactly why I need to leave.
Before it's too late.
Author's POV
It was a shoot day.
The skies were gray, heavy with clouds.
Rain had begun to fall—light at first, then gradually stronger, as if nature was syncing perfectly with the director's call for a raw, emotional scene.
The crew moved quickly, covering cameras with plastic, rushing through sound checks.
No artificial rain needed today.
The storm was real.
Inside the makeup tent, Rabin sat silently as the stylist fixed the final touch on his jawline.
His eyes stared forward, but his mind wasn't really there.
He hadn't seen Y/N since morning.
She left early—quiet, like a whisper slipping out of the room before dawn.
Raya entered the tent just then, brushing rain off her sleeves as she walked in without hesitation.
Hair tied back, heels clicking softly on the wet floor, confidence worn like perfume.
She didn't say anything at first.
Just looked at Rabin from behind the mirror.
Raya:
"Rain suits you."
Rabin didn't respond.
Still looking at the mirror. Still lost somewhere else.
Raya smiled, stepping closer.
Raya:
"You look like the type of guy women cry over in the rain."
He glanced at her—just once.
Rabin:
"Or the one who stands there while the woman walks away."
There was something cold in his tone.
Not cruel.
Just… distant.
Raya's smile faltered for a second, but she recovered quickly.
Raya:
"Either way… it makes a good story, right?"
The assistant director walked in right on cue.
AD:
"Rabin, Raya, on set in five. No umbrella, full rain scene. Let's make it count."
Rabin stood, pulling on his jacket.
As the rain picked up, everyone outside scattered into positions.
Director:
"Actors, cue!"
The crew braced under the pouring sky, boots sloshing against muddy ground, headsets crackling with live commands.
Slate Boy rushed in with the board.
Slate Boy:
"Scene 34, Take 1!"
Clap.
The board snapped shut, and the moment froze.
A loud thunder rolled above.
And suddenly… it wasn't Rabin and Raya anymore.
It was the character.
Heartbroken. Drenched. Still standing.
Rabin (acting):
"I didn't know love changes this much…
But the love I gave you was real."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it cut through the rain like a blade.
Steady. Strained.
Not a single word was missed.
Raya (crying):
"Please… forgive me… I still love you."
She took a step closer, eyes searching his face with desperation.
But he didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Only looked at her like something had already died inside him.
Rabin:
"Sorry."
And then he walked past her, slowly, letting the rain soak every regret off his skin.
Rabin turned to walk away, slow and silent, letting the weight of the scene fall off his shoulders—until—
Raya.
She ran after him, heels splashing through puddles, her breath catching in her throat.
She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.
The rain fell harder between them.
Raya:
"But I love you."
Her voice wasn't scripted this time.
This wasn't part of the scene.
Rabin:
"Raya—"
Before he could finish, she yanked his collar down and kissed him.
Not gently.
Not politely.
She kissed him like a final gamble.
Like it was the only way left to be heard.
Rain soaked them both, dripping from their lashes, from her trembling hand still holding onto his shirt.
From behind the monitor tent—
Y/N.
Frozen.
Her grip on the umbrella tightened, knuckles pale.
That kiss didn't look fake.
And Rabin didn't push Raya away—
Not immediately.
Just like that, the week she tried to hold her heart in place…
Started to slip.
Director:
"Cut!! That was a damn nice shot! Good work, good work!"
The crew clapped. The assistant director gave a thumbs-up.
Everyone was thrilled.
The scene was raw. Intense. Electric.
A perfect take.
Except—
Not everyone was clapping.
Behind the tent, under a half-closed umbrella, Y/N stood frozen.
Her lips slightly parted. Her chest still. Her eyes—
Glued to him.
Rabin still hadn't moved.
Raya stepped back slowly, watching his expression for a reaction—
Any sign that her kiss meant something.
But Rabin didn't smile.
Didn't say a word.
He looked out toward the monitors—
And saw her.
Y/N.
Staring right at him.
Their eyes met, just for a second.
She just turned around.
And walked away.
⸻
It was already late by the time the shoot ended.
Y/N handed Rabin a towel without saying much…He took it, quietly drying himself.
She didn't look at him.
Didn't ask.
Didn't speak.
They returned to the apartment in silence.
Once home, Y/N walked straight to the kitchen. She boiled water, sliced ginger, and added a spoonful of honey—
A simple remedy, just in case he caught a cold from the rain.
She placed the mug gently in front of him, then walked away.
They hadn't spoken a word since the shoot ended.
She simply ignored him—
But not out of anger.
Something colder.
Distance.
He sat on the edge of the couch, hair still damp, hoodie discarded, shoulders heavy.
She walked over silently, holding the steaming cup between her hands.
Y/N:
"Here."
Just one word.
Her voice was steady, but her eyes didn't meet his….She placed the mug on the table gently, almost too carefully.
Rabin:
"Thank you."
She turned immediately to leave.
But he didn't let her.
His hand reached out—quick, instinctive—and caught her wrist.
Warm fingers against her skin.
She froze.
Not because of the grip…But because of the weight in that single touch.
He stood slowly, still holding her wrist.
Y/N:
"What are you doing..?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper—guarded, tired.
But Rabin didn't answer with words.
He reached out, pulled her gently down onto the couch beside him—
Not forcefully, but firm enough to tell her:
"You're not walking away again."
She blinked in surprise as the cushion dipped beneath her.
Now she was sitting beside him.
Their shoulders almost touching.
Rabin:
"Don't move."
His voice was low. Serious.
Y/N froze.
And stayed still.
Eyes fixed forward. Heart rattling in her chest like a quiet warning.
Rabin:
"Why are you ignoring my eyes… huh!?"
His tone cracked a little—like the weight of her silence was finally too much.
She swallowed.
Y/N:
"I'm not…"
Rabin:
"I see it."
She flinched slightly.
Rabin (softer, slower):
"You used to look at me like you weren't afraid of anything… even when you called me annoying."
He turned slightly toward her, eyes burning through the silence.
Rabin:
"Now you look everywhere—except at me."
Y/N didn't respond.
But her hand curled into a loose fist on her lap.
He noticed.
He waited.
Because this time, he wasn't letting her go without an answer.
Y/N:
"I'm tired… I'm going."
She moved to stand, voice brittle, guarded.
But before she could take a full step away—
Rabin pulled her back down.
Firm. Desperate.
She landed beside him again, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.
Rabin:
"Stay with me."
His words were low, almost trembling.
He turned toward her, fully this time.
Locked his eyes into hers.
And this time—
She couldn't look away fast enough.
He reached out slowly, gently brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear.
Fingers lingering. Soft.
Careful, like she might vanish if he touched her too hard.
Rabin:
"It hurts my heart…"
His voice cracked, just slightly.
Rabin:
"When you don't look at me."
Y/N's chest rose unevenly.
Her lips parted—ready to speak—but nothing came out.
Because deep down, she knew—
He meant every word.
And she wasn't ready to hear them.
Y/N:
"What are you talking about…? I don't understand, Rabin."
Her voice trembled, not because she didn't understand—
But because she did.
And it scared her.
But Rabin didn't back down.
His eyes didn't waver.
He leaned a little closer, voice lower now—more certain than it's ever been.
Rabin:
"It's my job to act, Y/N."
"Kissing on-screen… it's nothing."
He paused. Studying her face. Watching the wall she was trying so hard to keep up.
Rabin:
"But off-screen…"
He reached for her hand.
Rabin:
"Off-screen, I really—want to be with you."
Y/N's breath caught.
Everything in her froze.
Her fingers twitched in his grip, and her throat tightened with words she didn't know how to say.
Rabin:
"Why is it easy to kiss on-screen…"
"But so damn hard off-screen?"
His voice was barely above a whisper—
A breath laced with longing, frustration, and truth.
Before Y/N could answer,
He leaned in slowly—so slowly—
And kissed the corner of her lips.
Not rushed.
Not forceful.
Just achingly tender.
A silent confession.
He pulled back, eyes still shut.
Rabin:
"I'm sorry for acting like this…"
"But I can't resist anymore."
His voice cracked on the last word, breaking down the last piece of pride he had left.
And then—
Y/N pulled him in.
Hands in his hoodie. Heart pounding. Breath trembling.
She kissed him—
This time, fully.
Completely.
On his lips.
Y/N:
"I'm sorry too…"
She whispered against his mouth, eyes still closed, forehead resting on his.
Y/N:
"Just for tonight… I can't handle it anymore."
They didn't speak after that.
Because words were no longer enough.
And in that small, dimly lit apartment—
Two people, who had danced around everything for far too long—
Finally stopped running.
The kiss deepened.
Soft. Slow.
Then hungry—like all the days they had pretended not to care were spilling out in one breath.
Rabin's hands moved up, gently cupping her face, anchoring her to the moment like he was afraid it would vanish if he let go.
And then—
He slowly leaned forward.
Guiding her back onto the couch.
His hand slid around her waist as she sank into the cushions.
He hovered above her, his forehead pressed gently to hers.
Their breaths tangled, fast and uneven.
He looked at her—
Eyes dark, soft, vulnerable.
Like he was asking.
Like he was telling.
Like he was finally, truly there.
Y/N's hands reached for him—pulling him down just a little closer.
Because this wasn't just a kiss anymore.
This was the unraveling of restraint.
This was "I missed you before I even had you."
They kissed again.
Deeper this time.
More honest.
Their bodies tangled, hearts pounding in sync.
Fingers brushing over cheeks, down arms, holding each other like the world outside didn't exist.
They couldn't get enough of each other.
And for once, they didn't need to say a thing.