The next day, Ohm drove to work with Nanon. They both have a starting scene for Our Skyy 2 today. P'Oaf wanted to get their parts over with so that not much interaction is needed to cause further whispers from the old cp fans.

--------------------------

The set was crowded, lights flooding the stage they'd redressed for Our Skyy 2. Crew members hurried past, clipboards and headsets in hand. It was noisy, but the moment Nanon slid into the chair beside him, Ohm felt the world narrow to a pinpoint.

"Lines ready?" Nanon asked, voice clipped, eyes never leaving his script.

"Born ready," Ohm replied with a grin he didn't quite feel. He twirled his pen between his fingers, forcing his posture straight up in confidence. Outward calm, inward chaos. 

P'Oaf clapped his hands. "Scene twenty-four. Pat comforts Pran after the fight. We'll need intimacy, but nothing exaggerated."

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. Intimacy.

Ohm leaned back, trying not to look too obviously at the curve of Nanon's jaw, the way his lashes dipped as he skimmed the page. They had been here before—script in hand, stage lights pressing down, pretending. Only this time, the pretending had teeth.

When the cameras rolled, Nanon didn't look at him as Pran. He looked at him the way he used to during long rehearsals of Bad Buddy: intense, unflinching, as if he could pin Ohm to the spot without moving a muscle.

It hurt. God, it hurt.

"Ohm, closer," P'Oaf called out. "Put your hand on his shoulder, let it linger."

Nanon stiffened. Ohm felt it instantly. He wanted to pull back, to give him space, but the camera was still rolling. So he held on, steady, just as Pat would.

"You're not alone," Ohm said, delivering the line, low and gentle.

The script didn't call for the way his thumb brushed against Nanon's shirt. That was his own betrayal.

"Cut!"

The room filled with noise again, clattering equipment, murmured adjustments, but the only thing Ohm heard was the silence between them. He dropped his hand as if burned, chuckling too brightly. "Guess I'm too convincing, huh?"

Nanon smiled back, polite, professional. But the corners of his mouth never reached his eyes.

------------------------

Later, during a break, they found themselves side by side at the snack table. Neither reached for anything. 

"You're doing well," Nanon said finally.

Ohm glanced sideways, searching for sincerity. "Thanks. You too." He wanted to say more to ask if Nanon still thought about the nights they'd laughed between takes, the mornings coffee runs, or the pretending intimacy that they had agreed on but the words clogged his throat.

Nanon shifted, arms crossed. "It's just work, you know."

The phrase where like knife stab through him. Just work. Was that all Bad Buddy had been for Nanon? Was that all this was?

"Yeah," Ohm said lightly, forcing a grin. "Just work."

But as they returned to set, script pages trembling slightly in Nanon's hands, Ohm caught the flicker of something in his eyes something fragile, almost guilty. It was gone before he could name it.

---------------------

The next scene demanded more.

"Pat leans in," P'Oaf explained, gesturing with his hands. "You two don't need to kiss—just let the tension play. The audience knows what they want to see."

Ohm swallowed hard. He turned toward Nanon, who was already avoiding his gaze, focusing fiercely on the taped X on the floor. Professional. Detached.

The cameras rolled.

Ohm leaned in, stopping inches away, breath mingling with Nanon's. Every nerve screamed at him to close the gap, to risk everything, but he stayed still. His heart thundered so loudly he wondered if the boom mic would catch it.

For a heartbeat, Nanon looked at him, really looked, walls down, raw and unguarded. It was all there: the hesitation, the longing, the fear.

And then, cut.

The spell shattered. Crew clapped. P'Oaf nodded approval.

Nanon stepped back quickly, mask sliding neatly into place. "Good take," he said.

Ohm forced a laugh. "Yeah. Good take."

But inside, Nanon knew the truth: nothing about this was just acting. And nothing about his  eyes, in that brief unguarded moment, had been a lie. He just hope Ohm wasn't able to catch it.