Chapter 18 — Whispers That Don't Sleep
The city never truly slept.
Even after midnight, screens glowed like restless stars, and Lin Yue's name flashed across them—attached to headlines he never meant to create.
"Rising Idol's Secret Relationship?"
"Mystery Bodyguard or Lover?"
He sat on the couch in his apartment, phone facedown, as the sound of traffic floated through the half-open window. His manager's voice still echoed in his ears from the call an hour ago:
"Don't go online, Lin Yue. We're handling it. Just stay quiet."
Quiet.
As if silence could erase a rumor already alive and breathing through a million comment threads.
Across the room, Krit stood near the window, half hidden in the dim light. His jacket hung loosely from one shoulder, the glow from a streetlamp outlining the sharp line of his profile. He had barely spoken since they got back.
Finally, Lin Yue broke the silence.
"Is it bad?"
Krit's gaze stayed outside. "It's spreading fast."
Lin Yue pressed his palms together, trying to steady his breathing. "They think it's true."
Krit turned, eyes calm but unreadable. "They think what they want to think."
A humorless laugh slipped from Lin Yue's lips. "Easy for you to say. You don't have a fanbase that tracks every blink."
"I do now," Krit said quietly. "Because of you."
That made Lin Yue look up. Krit wasn't angry—just tired, the kind of tired that came from trying to stay professional while the world misunderstood every action.
---
The next morning brought no peace.
By the time they reached the agency, the lobby was filled with murmurs. Assistants and stylists paused mid-step, pretending not to stare. A few of the newer staff actually whispered, "That's him," as Krit passed.
Inside the conference room, Lin Yue's manager was pacing. "Do you know how hard it is to stop a story once it's trending? We've already released a statement denying everything, but the comments—" He stopped, rubbing his temples. "Some fans are defending you. Others are… not."
Lin Yue sat silently, fingers curled around his phone.
He had expected anger, disappointment—but not the sinking guilt that came with watching Krit stand against the wall, expression blank as stone.
The manager finally turned to Krit. "For now, you'll keep a low profile. Don't appear beside him in public until this cools down."
Lin Yue's head snapped up. "What? He's my bodyguard—"
"Exactly. You don't need more photos feeding the rumor mill," the manager cut in. "If reporters catch you two again, they'll assume it's true."
Krit gave a short nod. "Understood."
Something in the word understood hit Lin Yue harder than he expected.
He wanted to protest—to say that Krit hadn't done anything wrong—but the weight of every headline sat heavy on his tongue.
When the meeting ended, Krit followed him into the hallway.
"Don't take it personally," Lin Yue said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "They're just doing damage control."
Krit's reply was simple. "You don't have to explain."
"I'm not—" Lin Yue hesitated. "I just don't like them treating you like you did something wrong."
Krit's expression softened slightly. "It's part of the job."
He started to walk away, but Lin Yue caught his sleeve. The fabric was cool under his fingers, the gesture instinctive.
"Still," Lin Yue said quietly, "you shouldn't have to take the blame for me."
Krit looked down at the hand gripping his sleeve, then back at Lin Yue's face. "Then stop looking at me like that when people are watching."
The words landed somewhere between a warning and a confession.
Before Lin Yue could respond, Krit stepped back, breaking the contact.
---
That evening, social media exploded again—not with more rumors, but with fan theories and photo edits.
#YueKrit trended in several regions, filled with clips of them together: the way Krit adjusted Lin Yue's microphone during a live show, how Lin Yue smiled whenever Krit entered frame.
Some comments were cruel, others disturbingly affectionate. The world had turned their real-life tension into entertainment.
Lin Yue scrolled through it all until his chest ached. He didn't notice Krit until the man's reflection appeared in the mirror behind him.
"You shouldn't read those," Krit said.
"I know."
"And yet you're still doing it."
Lin Yue turned, eyes glassy with exhaustion. "Because they're talking about us like we're characters in a drama. I don't even know what's real anymore."
Krit didn't answer. Instead, he reached forward and closed the laptop gently, his hand lingering a moment on the lid. "What's real is that you need to rest."
For once, Lin Yue didn't argue. He leaned back in the chair, shoulders sagging. "They want you gone."
"I know."
"What if I say no?"
Krit's voice was calm, but his gaze held something raw. "Then it'll get worse. They'll hurt you to get to me."
Silence stretched between them, heavy but strangely tender. The noise of the city outside faded into the hum of air conditioning and distant traffic.
Lin Yue whispered, "You make it sound like you're leaving."
Krit's jaw tightened. "If that's what it takes to protect you, I will."
Lin Yue looked at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "You don't get to decide that alone."
For a fleeting instant, their eyes met, and neither of them looked away. There was something fierce and unspoken there—trust, fear, maybe even longing—but it stayed unspoken.
Then Krit turned toward the door, voice low. "Get some sleep, Lin Yue."
When the door clicked shut, Lin Yue stared at the empty space where he'd stood. The quiet felt too loud.
Outside, the city kept whispering their names.
Inside, Lin Yue finally admitted to himself what he had been denying all along—
He didn't want Krit's protection if it meant losing him entirely.