The horizon stretched, yawned, and bathed them in a hush of light.Her lashes fluttered open, greeted not by the sun—but by him.
His gentle face, barely touched by the morning, so close…Long lashes casting tiny shadows beneath his eyes,and his
bangs—slightly tousled—resting messily across his forehead, like even his hair was still asleep…
Her fingertips reached for his face, brushing against the skin , softer than she'd imagined
Y/N (softly, to herself)
"So this is what it feels like… touching a celebrity's skin."
A pause.
A smirk tugs at his lips, eyes still closed.
RABIN (low, teasing)
"Are you done checking me out?"
Her breath catches—busted.
He opens one eye, voice a lazy morning drawl.
RABIN
"Or do you need a few more minutes?"
The sheets rustle as Y/N pulls back slightly, face flushed from being caught staring.
She clears her throat, awkwardly brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Y/N (mumbling)
"You're awake?"
RABIN (eyes still closed, smirking)
"No… just dreaming about a girl staring at me like I'm her favorite movie."
He peeks open one eye.
Y/N (defensive)
"I—I wasn't checking on you!"
She tries to sit up, fumbling toward the edge of the bed—but suddenly, a firm arm wraps around her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of the sheets.
RABIN (half-asleep voice)
"Where are you going?"
Y/N (caught off guard)
"I… I should go back to my room…"
He opens his eyes now, lazy and teasing.
RABIN
"But this is your room now…"
(beat)
"No—from yesterday."
He smirks, brushing his nose against her shoulder with boyish mischief.
She freezes.
Y/N
"You're impossible."
She mumbles, hiding her face in the pillow.
RABIN (softly)
"And you're mine."
He whispers, voice dipping low as he tucks the blanket tighter around her.
Fade to warm silence.
Evening——
A warm amber sky hangs low over the city. The fluorescent lights of the store flicker gently as the automatic doors slide open.
The cool air hums.
Y/N walks ahead in black biker shorts and an oversized tee, cap low on her forehead. She glances left and right—mentally checking her list.
Beside her, RABIN—cap low, mask pulled up—grips the grocery cart like it's a prop in a low-budget rom-com. His steps match hers. Casual. Unrushed. Like he has all the time in the world just to walk beside her.
RABIN (softly, glancing at her legs)
"You sure that's allowed in public?"
Y/N (raising a brow)
"What?"
RABIN
"Those shorts. People might faint."
He nudges the cart forward with a smirk behind the mask.
Y/N (rolling her eyes)
"You're literally wearing the same cap-and-hoodie disguise like we're dodging paparazzi in aisle four."
She drops a packet of noodles into the cart.
RABIN
"You never know when a fan might spot the nation's boyfriend buying soy sauce."
He tosses one bottle in—completely the wrong brand.
Y/N (grabbing it, switching it out)
"Wrong one. You'd suck at survival without me."
She says it playfully but doesn't realize the quiet truth behind it.
RABIN (watching her, quietly)
"Good thing I don't plan to survive without you."
He mutters—just loud enough for her to hear.
She pauses at the cereal aisle.
Y/N (quietly)
"Smooth."
But her ears are pink. She walks ahead, pretending to read labels.
He follows behind, hands in pockets now, watching her as if she's the only thing on the shelf worth choosing.
Y/N (without looking)
"Choose what you want too."
Rabin (softly, with a smirk under the mask)
"I want only you."
Y/N (groaning)
"Jeez. That's cringe."
Rabin chuckles quietly, the corner of his eyes crinkling.
She ignores him, tossing a pack of soy milk into the cart. Then another. Then another.
Rabin (eyeing the pile)
"Do we need this much?"
Y/N (calmly)
"You never know when our next grocery run will be."
Rabin nods like she's spoken the laws of the universe.
They continue through the aisle—she stacks bags of mixed nuts while he quietly sneaks a packet of instant ramen into the cart like a guilty child.
Finally, they reach the cashier.
The cart is full—like embarrassingly full.
Rabin leans against the counter while Y/N pulls out her wallet.
The cashier looks at them for a moment—two masked figures, oddly quiet, oddly… domestic.
The apartment door swings open. Grocery bags in both hands, Y/N stumbles inside.
Rabin follows, kicking the door shut with his foot.
They both collapse on the couch.
Y/N (muttering)
"Tired…"
Rabin doesn't reply. Instead, he drops down, rests his head on her lap like it's the most natural thing in the world. His cap rolls somewhere across the floor.
Y/N (surprised)
"What are you doing?"
RABIN (muffled)
"Getting recharged."
His fingers lazily trace circles over her thigh, barely brushing through the fabric.
Y/N lets her fingers drift into his hair without thinking, combing through the soft strands—careful, slow.
Y/N
"You're clingier than I thought."
RABIN (softly)
"Only with you."
The room fades into a hush. The only sounds: the hum of the refrigerator, their breathing syncing slowly.
The clinking of dishes fades as the kitchen lights dim. The soft hum of the city night leaks through the windows. They walk side by side toward the hallway, slowing near the divide between their rooms.
Both pause.
Y/N (quietly)
"Goodnight, Rabin."
RABIN (tilting his head, with a playful pout)
"Where's my goodnight kiss?"
Y/N turns to face him, raising an eyebrow. He looks almost boyish—mask off, hair messy, arms crossed like a sulking teenager.
She steps in close, her fingers gently grabbing the collar of his shirt and tugging him down.
Y/N (softly, smirking)
"Goodnight, Rab."
She kisses him—light, brief, yet sincere.
He leans into it, smiling against her lips.
RABIN (still hovering close)
"You'll be dreaming of me."
Y/N (pulling away, chuckling)
"In your dreams."
She slips into her room, closing the door softly. Rabin stands in the hallway, touching his lips, still smiling like a fool.
Y/N's POV
I slipped into my blanket, the cool sheets brushing against my skin. The room was dim, only the bedside lamp casting a mellow hue across the walls.
I reached for my iPad, checking Rabin's schedule one last time before I allowed myself to drift.
Ugh… back-to-back shoots, meetings, and a fan call event.
"A hectic week begins tomorrow…" I whispered to no one, burying half my face into the pillow.
My eyes slowly gave in to the pull of sleep.
…Until a voice reached me.
Soft. Close. Like a murmur beside my ear.
Unclear at first—just a tone, not words.
But familiar. Deep. Warm.
"Babe…"
Was it part of my dream?
"Babe… you asleep already?"
I stirred, my brows twitching faintly.
Nope. That wasn't a dream.
I didn't open my eyes fully—just a sliver, the haze of sleep too comforting to let go of.
But that voice again… muffled and close.
"I can't sleep…"
I didn't say a word.
Just reached out instinctively—like my body already knew what to do.
I pulled him to my side, quiet and slow.
His face tucked into the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
My arms wrapped around him without thinking, and all I knew was—he hugged me back.
Tightly. Like he'd been waiting for this.
And in that soft stillness, I fell back asleep…
with him right there
Time skips to morning—
The alarm buzzed softly beside me.
I groaned, blindly reaching out to stop it.
The sun hadn't even risen yet—just the faintest hue of blue stretching behind the curtains.
My eyes blinked open slowly.
And there he was.
Still curled up against me, arms lazily wrapped around my waist like he belonged there.
His lashes long against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, breathing slow.
For a second—I forgot.
Forgot what today meant.
Then it hit me.
Today…
He'll be meeting Raya again.
Their scenes start from today.
"Rab… babe," I whispered, brushing the hair from his forehead.
He groaned softly, burying his face deeper into the crook of my neck like a stubborn cat refusing to leave its favorite spot.
"It's time to wake up," I said, nudging him gently. "You have a shoot."
"Five more minutes…" he mumbled, arms tightening around my waist, locking me in.
I rolled my eyes, smirking to myself.
"If you're late, your Raya will be waiting," I teased, pinching his cheek playfully.
That did it.
His eyes blinked open slowly, and a smile crept across his sleepy face.
"Raya?" he murmured, voice still husky from sleep. "Nothing to do with me."
"But she likes you," I muttered, trying not to sound bothered… but it slipped out, obvious as hell.
Rabin's eyes lit up with that devilish smirk.
"Aee… are you jealous?" he teased, voice dipping low, playful.
Damn it.
"I'm not," I replied sharply, avoiding his gaze. "I just said the truth."
Without warning, he shifted, hovering above me—his weight barely on the bed but his presence fully overwhelming.
His face leaned in, lips inches away.
"You," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from my face, "are my assistant… and my little girlfriend. So take care of your boyfriend from Raya, hmm?"
He kissed me—slow and claiming. Not rushed. Not teasing. Just full of "mine."
As he pulled away, his lips still barely brushing mine, he smiled.
"Good morning, babe," he said softly. "I love you."
Author's POV
Location: Artist Lounge
The room buzzed softly—quiet chatter, brushes against makeup palettes, the subtle hum of a blow dryer in the next room.
Rabin sat calmly in the makeup chair, eyes closed, letting the artist dab and blend across his already flawless skin. His hoodie was draped over the chair, and his posture relaxed—but his mind wasn't.
Across from him, Y/N sat on the couch, legs crossed, iPad on her lap. Her eyes scrolled, but her ears were listening.
Knock knock.
The door creaked open.
"Hello, Rabiniee~"
Raya's sugary voice cut through the mellow air like a bell.
Rabin opened one eye slightly.
"Are you done with your makeup?" she asked, stepping in like she owned the room.
"I think so…" he replied, voice neutral.
Raya beamed. "So, shall we practice once you're done?"
A pause.
Rabin gave a faint nod. "Ah… okay."
He glanced over at the couch.
Y/N didn't look up.
Didn't flinch.
But he knew she heard everything.
The makeup artist gave a small bow and exited, the door clicking shut behind her.
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was heavy.
Raya stepped forward, flashing her signature smile.
"Shall we go to another room for practice?" she asked, her voice light but layered with a hint of something else.
Rabin leaned back against the chair, his eyes now fully open—alert.
"It's okay. Let's do it here."
A pause.
Raya's smile faltered, just slightly.
"But…"
Her eyes flicked—not subtly—towards Y/N, still seated on the couch. Still scrolling. Still unreadable.
Raya hesitated.
Then back to Rabin.
Then back to Y/N.
She tugged on her sleeves slightly, trying to keep her tone pleasant.
"I just thought… you know, we might need more space. And maybe a little privacy?"
But Rabin didn't budge.
His eyes were still on Y/N.
"No need. I'm comfortable here."
His words were casual, but his gaze wasn't.
Raya blinked—caught off guard.
Then forced a laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"Alright… here, then."
Raya stepped forward, her voice softening—dripping with familiarity and regret.
Her hand reached for Rabin's shoulder, gently resting there.
"We're childhood best friends," she began, her eyes glistening—
"And our parents… they know. They knew how much we loved each other. I know I made a mistake…"
Raya took a hesitant step forward—then another.
Then, on her tiptoes, she leaned closer to Rabin… too close.
Closer than the script allowed.
Her lips nearly brushed his cheek—but not quite.
Rabin didn't move.
But his jaw tightened.
His eyes flicked down at the script clutched in his hand.
Then back at her.
He knew.
And before her lips could cross that line of fiction—
He gently, but firmly, pushed her away by the shoulder.
"Raya… I think that's not in the script."
His voice was calm—measured. But the weight behind his tone was unmistakable.
Raya stepped back, smiling awkwardly as if it was just a mistake.
"Ah… sorry. Got too into the moment," she laughed, brushing her hair behind her ear.
Y/N stood up with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Oops. Sorry to disturb you guys," she said, voice clipped.
And without waiting, she walked out—cool on the surface, but her heart was already sprinting.
She didn't need to hear more.
Rabin turned quickly to follow her, but just before he reached the door—Raya grabbed his wrist.
"Rabiniee… where are you going?"
Her voice soft, trembling with forced sweetness.
Rabin didn't even turn fully. His eyes darkened with irritation.
"Stop calling me Rabiniee. Just—enough."
"Rabin, I swear, you know I've liked you for a long time!"
"Oh really?" he snapped, turning to look at her squarely for the first time.
His voice was calm, but ice-cold.
"Well—sorry. But I don't like you."
She froze.
Raya clenched her jaw, her pride slipping. In a last fit of anger, she stomped on his foot with her heel.
But Rabin didn't even flinch—
He was already gone.
Disappearing down the hallway.
Eyes scanning for her.
"Y/N!" he called out, voice echoing softly down the corridor.
She didn't turn back.
"Actors, ready?"
The director's voice echoed through the beachside set.
Rabin was about to turn down the hallway, chasing after Y/N—when the staff came rushing in.
"Mr. Rabin, Director is calling for the take!"
" They're all set!"
He clenched his jaw, gaze still fixed on the hallway she disappeared into.
His heart wanted to follow her, but the call of the camera was relentless.
He walked towards the set, the script assistant handing him his scene notes, but his eyes were somewhere else—searching, restless, waiting.