The set lights flared back on. The sofa and standing lamp were switched out for the cozy furnishings of the characters' home. Crew footsteps shuffled in the background, a low hum filling the space.
The director glanced at his watch, his tone calm yet carrying quiet authority.
"Next scene—Noah and Ren. Run the lines once, then we'll roll."
Noah gripped his script, gaze steady. This wasn't a casual exchange—it was a reunion of estranged brothers, layered with unspoken pain. The role demanded closeness and suffocation in equal measure, and the weight of it pressed down on him.
Ren lowered himself into the seat beside him. Gentle, composed, his smile never hurried.
"I skimmed the scene. Let's just go through it once."
Noah nodded. "Alright."
They faced each other, scripts in hand, and began.
---
"Why don't you ever come home?"
Ren's voice was steady but restrained, laced with quiet grief. His gaze dipped, brows knitting in silent hurt.
Noah pressed his lips together, letting his character take over. His expression chilled, sharp as glass.
"I stopped being the kid you looked after a long time ago."
Defiance. Cold, cutting.
In just a few lines, the air changed.
From his chair across the set, the director's eyes sharpened, a faint light sparking.
Ren was the first to pause, lowering his script. His smile was warm, but intent.
"The line works. But try holding back a little. Not pure rejection—let it sound like he still longs for his brother's care, even if he can't admit it. You see?"
Noah thought for a moment, then nodded. "Got it. I'll try again."
Ren's tone was patient, guiding but never condescending.
"Good. Let's take it again."
---
Asher sat quietly off to the side, watching.
At first, it seemed like just another emotional scene. But when Noah lifted his gaze to meet Ren's, something in Asher's chest tightened.
There was… an ease between them. A rhythm that didn't need rehearsal.
Ren's composure was natural, his voice layered with feeling, as if Noah were the only one in the world. And under that pull, Noah changed—his performance sharpened, deepened, unfolding with every repetition.
The director was visibly pleased, nodding again and again.
"Yes, yes—that's it. Perfect rhythm."
Noah lowered his voice, murmuring to Ren, "Thanks. That note helped."
Ren only smiled. "It was all you."
Their eyes met, a brief laugh shared—light, effortless, in tune.
On the sidelines, Asher's hand curled tight, his knuckles drumming harder against the chair's armrest.
---
"Action!"
The cameras rolled. Tension strung taut like a bow.
"Stop thinking about him. Whatever you had—it's over." Ren's voice was ragged, trembling with anguish. His stare locked on Noah's.
Noah's breath faltered. Lips trembled before he forced the line out, sharp, frigid:
"What happened between us… is none of your business."
"You don't understand," Ren's character bit out, each word ground between his teeth. "You were never just my brother to me."
Noah froze. His eyes widened, moisture glinting at the edges. After a long silence, he looked away, his voice breaking to a whisper.
"But you're my brother."
---
"Cut!" The director's voice cracked through the air, exhilarated.
"Yes! That's it! Ren, your control and release—brilliant. Noah, the restraint, the fracture—it's all there. That's the scene."
Crew members whispered among themselves, unable to hide their awe.
"Their chemistry's unreal."
"First time working together, and they're already in sync."
"No wonder the director kept this under wraps. What a surprise."
Noah was still catching his breath, chest rising with the tension that lingered. He turned to Ren with a weary but genuine smile.
"You're incredible, senpai."
Ren shook his head. "Only because you gave me something to work with."
Noah's tone deepened, sincere. "I couldn't have reached that without you."
Ren only smiled, letting the words settle.
---
Through it all, Asher said nothing. Silent. Still. Watching.
When the director announced the rest of the night would focus on Noah and Ren, Asher's expression didn't shift. He only nodded.
"You're wrapped for the day," the director told him. "Go rest."
"Mm." Asher slipped into his jacket, his strides long and even as he left.
No one noticed the heaviness in his step, the subtle weight dragging at his heels.
---
The night stretched on.
The set was quieter, lit only by a handful of lamps. Noah and Ren continued their scenes—this one an intimate late-night dialogue. The camera's hum was the only sound.
"Cut! That's good," the director finally said, his voice gentler. "We'll stop here."
Noah exhaled, sinking into a chair.
Ren handed him a water bottle, smiling lightly. "Good work."
Noah accepted it with a murmur. "Thanks, senpai."
Ren studied him for a moment, then said with quiet certainty, "You have real potential."
A faint warmth spread in Noah's chest. More than he'd admit, the words mattered.
---
When he left the set, cool night air washed over him, easing the heat and fatigue clinging to his skin.
He didn't notice the car parked nearby. The figure inside had been watching all along.
Asher sat in the driver's seat, fingers tapping absently on the wheel. He should have gone straight home—he'd even driven halfway there. Yet somehow, he'd turned back.
The window was lowered just enough. Through it, he saw Noah step out with Ren, side by side, their conversation laced with quiet laughter.
Something clenched in Asher's chest. It shouldn't matter. And yet—it did.
For the first time, he recognized the feeling gnawing at him. Jealousy.
---
Ren slowed his step. "It's late. How are you getting home? Want me to drive you?"
Noah hesitated, then shook his head quickly. "No, it's alright. I'll manage."
Ren frowned faintly, worry threading his tone. "It's a long way back. Not safe alone this late."
Noah's smile was polite, almost apologetic. "I'm used to it. But thank you."
Ren looked at him as if weighing whether to insist, but the firmness in Noah's eyes stopped him. He relented with a small nod. "Alright. Just… be careful."
"I will," Noah answered softly.
He couldn't let Ren drive him. Not because of courtesy—
But because Ren couldn't know he lived with Asher.
Ren didn't press. He simply raised a hand in parting. "See you tomorrow."
"See you."
---
It was past one when Noah reached the apartment.
The hallway was quiet, lit with dim yellow light. His footsteps echoed too clearly. He thought idly—Asher must be back already.
But when he unlocked the door, the living room lay dark.
No shoes by the entrance. No lamp glow. No familiar presence filling the space.
Surprised, he flicked on a light. Warm amber spilled across the emptiness.
For a moment, he just stood there. Then whispered, barely audible,
"…It's easier when you're not here anyway."
His chest ached, though he couldn't say why.
---
Miles away, light still burned in Asher's villa.
He sat slouched on the sofa, an empty glass before him.
A faint smear of liquor clung to the rim as his fingers traced it idly. The bottle on the table was half-drained.
The script lay unopened nearby. Forgotten. His mind replayed only one reel of images—Noah and Ren, shoulder to shoulder, moving in effortless harmony.
A restless heaviness pulsed in his chest. He poured another glass, swallowing it down in one gulp.
The burn scorched his throat, but gave no relief.
The villa was too quiet. The only sound was liquid hitting glass.
Asher leaned back, jaw tight, lips pressed thin.
He hadn't gone back to the apartment. He wasn't sure if it was avoidance—or something darker. A refusal to face what he didn't want to see.
---
Across the city, the apartment and villa stood apart, both steeped in silence.
One man curled alone in bed.
Another drowned unease in liquor.
And the distance between them stretched wider than miles.