Adrian could not remember the last time he had felt this betrayed.
He sat hunched in the corner of the rehearsal hall, the crisp pages of the script limp in his hands. The words swam before his eyes no matter how many times he tried to focus on them. His fingers itched to tear the packet in two, to march out of the building and tell Kevin he was done, that he would not be humiliated like this. Not like this.
A Boys' Love romance. With Julian.
The sheer absurdity of it clawed at him. Years of rivalry, countless competitions, and the universe decided their grand collision should take the form of… soft touches and longing gazes? He could practically hear Julian laughing at the irony of it all.
Adrian pressed his palms to his face, muffling a groan. This was supposed to be his big step into serious acting. A film that would show range, maturity, depth. Instead he was expected to blush and pretend to fall for the one man who had been the thorn in his side since childhood.
His ears pricked at the sound of approaching footsteps. He lowered his hands slowly, praying to whatever gods might exist that it was not him.
It was.
Julian strolled across the hall with infuriating ease, a cup of coffee balanced in one hand, script in the other. His hair caught the morning light from the tall windows, making him look as though he had been painted into the room. People glanced up as he passed, their gazes following him unconsciously. He had that kind of presence, the kind that grated on Adrian's nerves.
Julian stopped beside Adrian's chair and lowered his coffee to the table. He leaned slightly, his voice pitched low enough that only Adrian could hear.
"Still recovering from the shock?" His lips curved into a smirk. "You look pale."
Adrian snapped the script shut. "I'm fine."
"Are you?" Julian tilted his head, studying him with faux innocence. "Because personally, I think this is the role of a lifetime. Two rivals destined to become lovers. Poetic, don't you think?"
"There's nothing poetic about it." Adrian set the script down with more force than necessary. "This is a joke."
Julian took a sip of his coffee, unbothered. "Well, if it is, I fully intend to deliver the punchline beautifully."
Adrian clenched his fists beneath the table. He told himself not to rise to the bait, not to give Julian the satisfaction. But when Julian leaned closer, his breath warm with the faint scent of roasted beans, Adrian could not stop himself from hissing, "You think you can play this role better than me? Watch me. I'll own it."
Julian's smile deepened. "I'm counting on it."
Before Adrian could retort, the director arrived.
The chatter in the room dimmed as Director Liang strode to the front. A man in his fifties with silver at his temples and a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, he carried himself with a calm authority that immediately demanded respect. He clapped his hands once, sharply.
"All right, everyone. Welcome to the first full table read of Hearts in Bloom. Some of you I have worked with before, some are new faces. I expect professionalism from all."
His eyes swept the room, landing for the briefest second on Adrian and Julian. Adrian had the uncomfortable feeling that the director already knew exactly what the tabloids said about them.
"This is not just a love story," Director Liang continued, his voice rich and measured. "It is a story about vulnerability, about growth, about finding unexpected connection. If any of you treat it as parody or melodrama, you will not survive this production. Understood?"
A murmur of assent rolled through the cast. Adrian forced himself to nod, though his insides twisted. Vulnerability. Unexpected connection. The words felt like traps designed to corner him.
Scripts rustled as the actors found their places around the long table. Adrian's chair scraped against the floor as he slid closer. To his left sat a supporting actress whose polite smile eased some of his tension. To his right sat Julian, far too close for comfort. Their elbows nearly brushed whenever one of them turned a page.
Director Liang gave the signal to begin.
Adrian cleared his throat, forcing himself into character. His role was Wei Tian, a stoic young man who buried himself in work to avoid dealing with his fractured family. The story began with him meeting Song Jae, the bright and reckless florist who would gradually unravel his walls. Song Jae was Julian's role. Naturally.
The first lines were easy enough. Adrian delivered Wei Tian's curt replies, his clipped tone. He could handle this. Then Julian spoke.
"Your tie is crooked," Julian read, his voice softer than Adrian expected. He did not play it with mockery but with a kind of casual warmth, as if Song Jae had noticed something small and wanted to fix it.
Adrian's head snapped toward him.
Julian's eyes were on the page, but there was something in his delivery that felt… real. The words slipped past the paper, coiling through the air. For a heartbeat Adrian forgot they were acting.
He stumbled over his next line. His tongue caught, his throat dry. Across the table a few actors exchanged amused glances. Heat prickled Adrian's neck.
Julian noticed. Of course he noticed. His lips twitched in faint triumph, though he kept his voice smooth as silk for the next cue.
Adrian ground his teeth and forced himself to focus. He would not lose here. He dug into the lines with intensity, sharpening each word, layering Wei Tian's frustration and guardedness until the tension filled the air.
But Julian matched him effortlessly. Where Adrian was sharp, Julian was disarmingly gentle. Where Adrian raised his voice, Julian lowered his. The contrast pulled the entire room into their orbit. The supporting cast barely needed to be present; the weight of the scene lived between the two of them.
By the time they reached the end of Act One, Adrian's palms were slick with sweat. His chest rose and fell like he had sprinted a mile.
Director Liang set down his copy of the script. His expression remained unreadable, but his words were calm. "Good. There is something here worth exploring. Both of you, stay after. We will rehearse the garden scene."
Adrian froze. He remembered the garden scene. It was the first moment Wei Tian's icy mask cracked, when Song Jae reached out and brushed a flower petal from his hair. A subtle, intimate beat. Nothing physical yet, but the air between them was meant to spark with unspoken promise.
He swallowed hard.
The table read ended, the other actors filtering out. Crew members shuffled papers, collected cups. Adrian remained rooted in place, staring at the script as if sheer willpower could make the pages combust.
Julian rose smoothly, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned abdomen. Adrian's gaze flicked there before he could stop himself. He cursed under his breath and looked away.
"Ready?" Julian asked lightly.
Adrian forced his chair back, the scrape echoing louder than he intended. "Let's get this over with."
They moved to the open rehearsal space at the center of the hall. Director Liang stood with his hands clasped behind his back, observing. A few assistants lingered at the edges, notebooks ready.
"Remember," Liang said, "this is not about physical contact yet. It is about atmosphere. Wei Tian has never let anyone close to him, not truly. Song Jae is the first to breach that distance. Show me that hesitation. That pull. Begin."
Adrian inhaled slowly. He straightened, clutching the script but not looking at it. He was Wei Tian now, guarded, rigid, impenetrable. He felt Julian step into the space before him, bringing warmth with him like sunlight spilling into shadow.
Julian's gaze lifted. Their eyes met.
For the briefest moment, the room fell away.
Julian stepped closer, voice soft. "You have something in your hair."
Adrian's chest tightened. He knew what came next. He braced as Julian raised a hand, fingers hovering inches from his temple. The motion was slow, deliberate, filled with intention.
Adrian's breath caught. His body screamed to flinch back, to break the illusion, to laugh it off. But the director's eyes were on him. Everyone's eyes were on him.
So he froze.
Julian's fingertips brushed his hair lightly, delicately. The touch was nothing more than a feather, but Adrian felt it like fire. His pulse thundered in his ears, his throat constricting.
Their eyes locked again. Something shifted. The rivalry that had defined them for so long flickered, just for an instant, into something else. Something neither of them had words for.
Director Liang's voice cut through the silence. "Good. Hold it there. Adrian, let the hesitation show more. Julian, resist the urge to overplay. Subtlety is key."
They adjusted, repeated. Again and again, until Adrian's nerves frayed. Each time Julian's hand came close, Adrian's heart rebelled. By the tenth repetition, he could barely hear the director's notes.
Finally, Liang clapped once. "Enough for today. This will work. Both of you, keep digging. Dismissed."
Adrian exhaled sharply, tension draining from his shoulders. He gathered his script with shaking hands, desperate to escape.
Julian, however, lingered. He waited until the director turned away, then leaned close to Adrian's ear.
"You didn't flinch."
Adrian stiffened. "What?"
Julian's smile was maddeningly soft. "When I touched you. You didn't flinch. Progress."
Adrian shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm just that good an actor."
Julian chuckled, low and knowing. "We'll see."
Adrian stormed out of the hall, his pulse still racing, his thoughts a chaotic storm.
And for the first time in his life, he feared the stage might reveal more truth than he was ready to face.