Chapter 21: After the Storm
The city felt quieter than usual. The chaos of the headlines had begun to fade, replaced by the soft rhythm of ordinary life , morning traffic, the hum of people who had already found something new to gossip about.
But for Lin Yue, the noise never truly left. It echoed in the back of his mind: the harsh comments, the disbelief in fans' eyes, the way every camera seemed to follow his every step.
He hadn't seen Krit for a week.
Each day, he'd wake up expecting a message, a call, something — but the silence stretched like an ocean between them. Even rehearsals felt heavier. Every lyric about love and loss hit too close.
His manager noticed the change. "You're zoning out again," he said one afternoon as Lin Yue sat in the recording booth.
Lin Yue forced a smile. "Just tired."
But his manager's expression softened. "I know this has been hard. The label wants to push your image again — you'll need to attend the charity gala next weekend. Smile, show you're fine."
Lin Yue nodded absently. "Fine," he repeated, though the word felt hollow.
After the meeting, he slipped out the back door, his hoodie pulled up and sunglasses low. The air outside felt freer than the suffocating walls of the studio. He walked aimlessly through the streets, ending up at a small café tucked away in an alley — one of those quiet places no fan ever thought to look.
He ordered a cup of jasmine tea and sat by the window. The sunlight touched the table, scattering in soft gold. For the first time in days, his heartbeat slowed.
Then a shadow crossed his reflection.
He looked up — and froze.
Krit stood at the door, hesitant, his eyes uncertain.
He wore plain clothes — a white shirt, black jeans — but Lin Yue would recognize that stance anywhere. The same calm alertness, the way he scanned a room without trying.
"Krit," Lin Yue breathed, half in disbelief.
Krit offered a small smile. "You shouldn't sit near the window. Someone might recognize you."
Lin Yue blinked. "That's the first thing you say to me after disappearing for a week?"
Krit's smile faltered. "I'm sorry. I needed time to think."
Lin Yue gestured for him to sit. "And? Did you figure out how to vanish better next time?"
Krit sat across from him, folding his hands. "I figured out that running doesn't help. I thought staying away would protect you… but I just made things worse. For both of us."
Lin Yue stared at him, his anger melting into quiet relief. "You could've just told me that instead of leaving me to wonder."
"I didn't trust myself," Krit admitted. "Every time I'm near you, I forget the line between my job and my heart."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The world outside moved normally — laughter, passing footsteps — but between them, everything slowed.
Lin Yue looked at him, truly looked. "Maybe that line doesn't have to be there forever."
Krit sighed, a small, helpless sound. "You're too hopeful for your own good."
"Or maybe you're too scared," Lin Yue countered softly. "You think love only survives when it's easy. But I don't care if it's hard. I just don't want to lose someone who makes me feel… real."
The words hung there, honest and fragile. Krit leaned back, watching Lin Yue — this idol who could command a stage, now sitting in front of him, voice trembling with truth.
"I missed you," Krit said quietly.
Lin Yue's chest tightened. "Then don't disappear again."
They sat in silence, the sunlight shifting slowly across the table. For the first time, neither of them was pretending.
A waitress walked by, smiling politely, and placed another cup of tea beside Krit's untouched one. "On the house," she said cheerfully. "You two look like you needed it."
Lin Yue chuckled softly. "Do we really look that miserable?"
Krit gave a half-smile. "A little."
They both laughed — small, real laughter that eased the air between them.
When they finally stepped out of the café, the sky had turned amber with evening. Lin Yue pulled his hoodie back up, glancing sideways at Krit. "My manager will probably kill me if he finds out I met you."
Krit smirked. "Then let's make sure he doesn't."
They walked side by side, close enough for their arms to brush occasionally. Every touch was a quiet reassurance that this — whatever it was — wasn't over yet.
As they reached the corner where they'd have to part, Lin Yue stopped. "You're still wearing the pendant," he said softly, noticing the small star glinting at Krit's neck.
Krit touched it unconsciously. "You told me to keep it. Said it would protect me."
"Maybe it's working," Lin Yue said with a faint smile. "Because you came back."
Krit didn't answer — he just looked at him, eyes warm, almost wistful. "Take care of yourself, Lin Yue. Don't let the world break you."
"And you," Lin Yue replied, stepping back slowly, "don't let fear keep you from living."
When they finally turned away, neither looked back, but both wore the same small, aching smile.
Later that night, Lin Yue scrolled through the newest articles. The buzz was already dying down , the world was moving on.
But deep down, he knew something had changed forever.
He clicked open his notepad and began typing lyrics , soft, simple lines about protection, distance, and love that never needed an audience to be real.
The song would be called "Enough."
And though no one would know who it was for, Lin Yue did.