Chapter 17 — The Space Between Us
The lights on set felt brighter than usual, almost blinding. Lin Yue blinked through the glare, the director's voice echoing across the soundstage. Cameras were lined like a row of judging eyes, and every movement he made seemed heavier than it should be.
It was supposed to be a simple commercial shoot — just a thirty-second clip promoting a fragrance. But the whispers had already started. A few crew members huddled near the props table, stealing glances at him and Krit between takes. The tabloids had been merciless all week, spreading the rumor that the rising idol and his mysterious bodyguard were more than just close.
Krit stood just out of frame, his usual stance — arms crossed, posture straight, eyes scanning the room like he was made of stone. But Lin Yue could feel the tension in the air between them, invisible but real.
"Hold still," the makeup artist said softly, dabbing at the corner of his lip. "You're trembling."
"I'm fine," Lin Yue murmured, though his voice betrayed him.
Krit's eyes flickered toward him, and for a brief second, their gazes met. It was nothing — just a moment — but Lin Yue felt something stir in his chest, the kind of pull that made him forget where he was. He looked away quickly, clearing his throat as the director called for one last take.
---
By the time filming wrapped, the sky outside the studio had turned to a hazy shade of orange. Lin Yue slipped away from the noise, escaping into the narrow hallway leading backstage. His head was pounding, not from the lights, but from the endless cycle of whispers, cameras, and forced smiles.
He didn't hear Krit's footsteps at first — quiet, measured, the way he always moved.
"You shouldn't walk alone," Krit said, voice calm but edged with concern.
Lin Yue didn't turn around. "You don't have to follow me everywhere."
"It's my job," Krit replied.
"I didn't ask for a shadow."
Krit took a few steps closer, the sound of his boots steady against the concrete floor. "Then maybe stop walking into dark corners."
The words hung there — too sharp to be casual, too soft to be cold. Lin Yue finally faced him, ready to retort, but the words died when he saw the faint exhaustion in Krit's eyes. There was no anger there, only a quiet sort of worry that unsettled him more than any argument could.
"You're overworking yourself," Krit said quietly. "You didn't eat anything today."
"I wasn't hungry."
Krit exhaled slowly and reached into the pocket of his jacket. He held out a wrapped rice ball — slightly squished, but still warm. "Then at least pretend to be."
Lin Yue stared at it, hesitant. Krit had never crossed the line between duty and care before. He took it, their fingers brushing for the briefest moment. The contact was small, fleeting — but it sent a quiet shock through both of them.
Lin Yue looked away first, the air suddenly too heavy.
"Thanks," he muttered.
Krit said nothing. But when Lin Yue bit into the food, the faintest smile touched Krit's lips — gone as quickly as it came.
---
Later that night, the two of them waited by the back exit for the van. The streets were dim, the city hum low and distant. Lin Yue leaned against the wall, tired but oddly calm for the first time in days.
The silence between them wasn't awkward anymore. It was… peaceful.
Until Krit's phone buzzed. He answered quickly, his face tightening as he listened.
When he hung up, his tone changed — sharp, controlled. "Your rival's PR team leaked something," he said. "A photo from today. They're twisting it to make it look like you and I are—"
Lin Yue's stomach dropped. "Are you serious?"
Krit nodded once. "The manager's handling it, but it's spreading."
Lin Yue let out a shaky breath, trying to process it. The world had always watched him too closely. Every smile, every glance — now, even kindness was a weapon someone could use against him.
He looked at Krit, who was already scanning his surroundings again, ready to protect him from whatever came next.
"Maybe…" Lin Yue started, his voice low, "maybe they're not completely wrong."
Krit froze. The streetlight caught the edge of his jaw, highlighting the muscle that tensed there. He said nothing, just turned slightly away, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The van pulled up, headlights cutting through the quiet. Krit opened the door, letting Lin Yue step in first.
Just before Lin Yue climbed inside, he glanced back. Krit's expression was unreadable — calm as ever, but his eyes lingered a little too long.
And in that unspoken second, Lin Yue understood:
There was something between them neither of them could name yet — not friendship, not love — but it was real, and it was already too late to stop.