The trending tag was still climbing.
Noah sat in the dressing room, his phone lighting up over and over. Comments poured in like a flood—some sharp, some screaming, some already desperate to ship them.
His palms were slick with sweat. He set the phone face-down on the table, pretending none of it existed.
His assistant peeked in and whispered, "Interview in an hour. The media is pushing."
Noah blinked. "What interview?"
"The behind-the-scenes clip went viral. Every outlet wants a piece of it."
Noah only nodded, keeping his silence.
The door opened not long after.
Asher strolled in with a bottle of water dangling from his hand. Black shirt, two buttons undone, posture loose but impossible to ignore—the kind of presence that bent the air around him.
He glanced at the silent Noah, eyes narrowing with faint amusement. His voice was a lazy rumble.
"Scared?"
Noah's fingers tensed. Lips pressed tight. "No."
Asher didn't push. He just twisted the cap open, tilted his head back, and drank like it was nothing.
——The interview began.
---
The lights on stage were merciless, like a hundred pairs of eyes burning straight through.
Noah sat rigid, spine taut like a drawn bowstring. His heart beat unevenly, but his face stayed carefully cool.
Beside him, Asher was the opposite.
Legs crossed, mic spinning lazily in one hand, his posture dripping with ease—as if the stage, the cameras, the noise, all belonged to him.
The host grinned, throwing out the first "fan-service" question.
"Your kiss scene is one of the hottest topics right now. Any fun stories behind the scenes?"
Noah opened his mouth, but Asher beat him to it.
His voice dropped, rough-edged, playful in its carelessness.
"Fun story? Sure. He shakes."
The air froze, then cracked open with laughter and chaos from the press seats.
Noah's fingers curled tight. His ears burned crimson, but his tone was ice as he caught the mic.
"That was for the role."
The restraint in his voice only betrayed the truth beneath it. Cameras flashed, chasing that tell.
Asher's lips curved, satisfied.
"Funny. You shook pretty hard that day."
Reporters exploded—laughter, whispers, too many flashes.
Noah's jaw clenched, veins pulsing at his temple.
"I was invested in the character."
The host, sensing gold, jumped in with a grin.
"And what about you, Asher? Any personal feelings from the scene?"
Asher's gaze dipped slowly—lingering on Noah's lips for a beat too long. His answer was casual, devastating.
"Not bad."
The room erupted again. Reporters shouted over each other—
"Not bad? What do you mean by that?"
"Good in what way?"
Asher didn't bother replying. His eyes slid back to Noah, heavy, deliberate. The big screen behind them caught every detail—Noah's ears gone scarlet.
Hot search: secured.
---
The second half of the interview only got messier.
"Rumor says," the host prodded with a mischievous smile, "Noah, you've always been a fan of Asher—even before debut. Is that true?"
Noah froze. His lashes trembled. Under the weight of every gaze in the room, he still lowered his eyes and admitted softly, clearly:
"Yes. I was his fan even before I debuted. He was the one who gave me the courage to enter this industry."
The room went dead silent, before erupting like a firecracker.
Asher's head tilted up.
For once, he hadn't expected it.
Noah sat beside him, tense, guarded—but the words came with a raw, unflinching honesty. Admiration, bare and cutting, like it had been ripped straight out of him.
Something inside Asher lurched.
Brief. Unexpected. Dangerous.
He smothered it with a slow curve of his lips, his voice still drawling.
"…Then I should thank you, fan."
Laughter broke across the stage.
The host pressed the moment, turning back to Noah.
"So what's it like working with your idol?"
Noah's fingers clenched around the mic. His lashes lowered to shield him, but his voice stayed steady.
"An honor… and a pressure. I'm afraid I won't do well enough."
Snickers rose from the crowd, thick with innuendo.
Asher leaned toward the mic, tilting his head lazily toward Noah.
"Pressure? I don't think you're lacking. You're obedient enough."
Noah's ears flared red again, jaw tightening. He didn't answer.
The big screen froze on the shot: Noah's rigid expression, ears betraying him; Asher's smile, all provocation.
---
Backstage chaos buzzed—assistants rushing, journalists pushing, lights swinging.
Noah had just taken a bottle of water when Asher's shadow fell over him.
One hand hooked his jacket over his shoulder. He stepped in, voice deceptively casual.
"…Fan?"
Noah's grip faltered on the bottle. "Mm."
Asher studied him, eyes hooded, lips curving faintly.
"Since when? Or was that just a line you made up on stage?"
Noah's breath caught. He didn't look up. "It wasn't made up."
"So you chased me," Asher murmured, almost mocking. "Bought albums, watched my premieres, stayed up refreshing box office numbers?"
Noah's ears reddened. He clutched the bottle tighter. "…No."
Asher's low chuckle slid between them. He leaned closer, voice brushing Noah's ear.
"But you just said—I gave you the courage to enter this circle."
Noah's chest stilled, throat bobbing.
The man's words came softer, edged with something sharper.
"Then you must like me a lot."
Noah snapped his head up, voice cutting cold. "I don't."
He turned, walking away, though the pull of that gaze burned between his shoulder blades like hooks he couldn't shake.
---
Less than two hours later, the trending board caught fire.
#AsherNoah
#MadKingActor×ColdIdol
#BehindTheScenesKiss
Comments rolled in like a wave:
—"Their chemistry is insane!!"
—"His ears really turned red, I can't!!"
—"Please, just date already!!"
At the night shoot, Noah sat in a corner, clutching his phone so hard the edges cut into his palm. The weight in his chest pressed deeper with every refresh.
The frenzy. The contracts. The shipping frenzy. He hadn't expected this tidal wave to come just from acting with Asher.
Meanwhile, in the back of his car, Asher leaned against the seat, scrolling through the chaos with a faint curl of his lips.
"Quick," he murmured.
As if he'd seen it coming all along.
---
By morning, Noah was dragged into the company conference room, eyes rimmed red from filming all night with no sleep.
His manager—who'd usually looked at him with indifference—was now grinning ear to ear.
"You and Asher are the hottest couple online. We've got brand deals, sponsors lining up. Opportunities everywhere."
Noah frowned. "We're just co-stars. Not a couple."
"They don't care. The audience wants to ship you. And you—" the manager's smile sharpened, "you just need to remember, Asher is your opportunity."
Noah's lips pressed tight. Cold. Silent.
---
Night again. The apartment was quiet, one lamp glowing in the living room.
Asher leaned back on the sofa, a glass of wine half full, fingers idly running along the chilled rim.
The interview replayed in his head.
> "I was his fan even before debut. He gave me the courage to enter this industry."
The boy had said it calmly, but with a conviction that cut straight through.
Asher's lips twitched, the smile shallow, but it couldn't wash away the ripple inside his chest.
He'd heard too many confessions, too many voices calling him their idol.
But when it came from Noah—it landed like a blade carving him open.
Alien. Sharp. Unshakable.
He tipped the glass back, swallowing the burn down his throat. He wanted to strip it out of himself, but the feeling clung.
The door clicked open.
Noah stepped in, his body heavy with exhaustion—long nights of filming, endless meetings, interviews stacked on top of each other. His shoulders sagged, his throat parched raw.
Asher's gaze found him instantly. "You're back."
Noah didn't answer, only bent to change his shoes, wanting nothing but his room.
But before he could move, his wrist was caught.
The grip wasn't harsh, but it left no space to resist.
Asher pulled him closer, studying his pale face. "You look like hell."
Fingers brushed the faint shadows under his eyes. His voice stayed calm, too calm. "They really don't mind running you to the ground."
Noah turned away, voice hoarse. "Let go."
Asher chuckled low, unbothered.
Instead, he leaned down, his breath dragging close.
"I've let you off for days… Time to make up for it."
His lips curved, eyes darkening. "Tonight, I'll f*ck you until you can't walk."
Noah's breath stuttered, ears flushing.
He tried to push him away, but fatigue had stripped his strength. The resistance was pitiful.
Asher's arm slipped around his waist, easing him back against the sofa.
"Don't run," he murmured, voice sinking into command. "Be good."
Noah's fingers clawed at the cushions, chest rising sharp and fast.
"I'm just… too tired. Not tonight."
Asher's grip didn't loosen. His thumb stroked the fragile line of Noah's wrist, almost tender—yet his gaze was nothing but dangerous.
"You're tired?" His voice dipped low, brushing against Noah's ear. "Then lie down. I'll do all the work."
The words sent a flush straight through Noah's skin. He twisted weakly, but Asher only tightened his arm around his waist, pressing him into the cushions.
"Stop—" Noah's voice cracked, hoarse, desperate. "I can't tonight."
"You can." Asher's lips brushed his temple, the curve of his mouth cruel with patience. "You just don't want to admit how badly your body answers me."
His hand slid lower, cupping the sharp line of Noah's thigh through his clothes. Noah jolted, a shudder betraying him instantly.
Asher caught it, smile deepening. "There it is. Even exhausted, you still tremble for me."
Shame burned down Noah's neck. He bit his lip hard, shaking his head. "I don't—"
"Don't what?" Asher cut him off, voice rough with amusement. "Don't like it? Don't want it? Or don't want me?"
The questions lashed one after another, pinning Noah more than the weight of his body.
Noah squeezed his eyes shut, breath coming uneven. He hated how his pulse betrayed him, how the heat coiled low even as his muscles ached for rest.
Asher tilted his face up, forcing him to meet those sharp, unrelenting eyes. "Look at you. You beg me to stop with your mouth, but your body's already begging me to keep going."
He dragged his thumb across Noah's lower lip, smearing the faint tremor there. His voice dropped to a growl.
"Be honest, Noah. Say you want me."
Noah's chest convulsed, a broken sound clawing up his throat. His fingers dug into the cushions until his knuckles blanched.
"Asher…" He whispered it like a plea, half protest, half surrender.
Asher's answering laugh was dark, satisfied. He pressed down harder, mouth grazing Noah's ear again.
"Good. That's the voice I've been waiting for."