Their gaze finally broke, leaving a silence that felt unfinished. The moment Zayn looked away, the first thing he noticed was that Finn wasn't there.
His pulse wouldn't steady. He kept replaying the fleeting moment with Mia. What had just happened? Was it her words that rattled him.. words that caught him off guard and left him wanting the very kiss they had joked about?
Or was it that no one had ever spoken to him like that before, and now it lingered inside him like a mark he couldn't shake?
"I'll… find Finn so we can go back to rehearsals," he said at last. But he knew he wasn't only doing that. He needed to step away, to get out from under the pull between himself and Mia.
She was his co-actor. They had known each other less than a day, and already he was caught in something he wasn't supposed to feel. The warning about crossing lines with one another still rang in his head.
But then, against his better sense, he admitted to himself that part of him really did want to find Finn.
Maybe it was because Finn had seen the moment, had witnessed that raw, forbidden thread tightening between him and Mia. The thought unsettled him.
Although he wasn't sure why it unsettled him.. was it because he knew Finn must have noticed that forbidden tension, or simply because Finn had seen it at all, and he couldn't stand that Finn had?
He didn't know.
He scanned the room and spotted Finn across the way, standing in the middle of a group. Their voices rose around him, laughter spilling from the small circle, but Finn's face betrayed no spark of genuine interest.
He stood among them without being part of them even though it was obvious they were talking to him. His posture was rigid, his eyes distant.
Then, as if pulled by instinct, Finn turned. His gaze collided with Zayn's. For a single beat, it held then Finn turned back again, plunging deeper into the chatter of the group that he seemed to ignore before.
Zayn stepped out of the room, the air inside suddenly too close to breathe.
Hours stretched onward. Meals came and went, voices weaving through laughter and chatter, plates shifting, cutlery clinking against china. The hall pulsed with life, with camaraderie, with the giddy warmth of a cast quickly bonding. Connections sparked everywhere.
When the day finally closed, the directors gathered the cast for final words. Their faces shone with satisfaction, their voices praising what they had seen.
The progress was undeniable. They couldn't hide their surprise at how quickly this group had fused together, how naturally conversations unfolded, how the energy flowed. It was faster than most groups they had ever managed.
At the end, then the gathering broke apart. Scripts snapped shut, chairs scraped across the floor, footsteps echoed down corridors as the actors drifted back to their separate lives, schedules tucked under their arms.
For Zayn and Finn, life outside the set wasn't far. Both still lived on campus, each with their own room.. by choice, not necessity. The college allowed for private rooms if one could afford them, and both had chosen solitude over the compromises of sharing.
The college had provided a chauffeur for the leads, a sleek black car that waited faithfully each day to deliver and collect. Today was no different. They slid into the backseat together, doors shutting them into a confined pocket of silence.
The chauffeur's eyes flicked up into the rearview mirror once, then again, as if even he sensed that something had shifted between them.
This wasn't how it usually was. The quiet was not ordinary. Not with these two, not when they sat shoulder to shoulder.
Finn reached for one of his earbuds, tugged it into place, and settled into the corner of the seat. His gaze fixed somewhere that wasn't Zayn. He said nothing.
Zayn stared for a long moment before his patience cracked. He reached out and yanked the earbud free. "Okay! Just say it already before it burns you alive. I can already see the fire. I know you want to."
Finn's jaw flexed. His hand shot out, snatched the pod back. "I'm not in the mood for your shit right now," he said flatly, plugging it back in.
But Zayn pulled it free again.
Finn's restraint broke. His voice dropped lower, harder. "Why is it important that I say anything about anything? You're a grown man and you know exactly what you're doing and the consequences that come with it. Give me the pod."
The command rang sharp, almost dangerous.
But Zayn didn't let go. Instead, he pushed, his voice edged with something that wasn't playfulness anymore. "Why does it seem to bother you so much?"
A short laugh escaped Finn, brittle, stripped of humor. It died before it even reached his eyes. "Stop flattering yourself. Not everything is about you." His voice was dry, dismissive, but he still refused to meet Zayn's gaze.
"You know what I mean, Phoenix. It's not about me," Zayn's tone shifted, low, steady, calling Finn by his second name the way he always did. Sometimes it twisted into "bird," mocking the flare of his name, and though it angered Finn every time, Zayn never stopped. He continued. "So either you've got something for her, or you're still stuck on the fact that I took the higher role even though there's barely a difference."
Finn's reply snapped back instantly, "Is that how shallow you think I am? First of all, I have no interest in someone I barely know. Why would I? Second, that position is all yours. I love where I am, wholeheartedly. And not even for a second do I believe you're talking about 'interest' when you know the rules. Not that it's my business but… forget it."
He leaned back words cutting themselves off. The silence rushed in again.
And in that silence, the car kept moving, the chauffeur's gaze once again flicking toward the mirror, as if wondering what had become of them, that they could never stop arguing about something.