The next day on set, the silence between them felt different. Not gone, but lighter somehow, like fog lifting after rain. When Nanon passed Ohm his water bottle during a break, their fingers brushed, and for once neither of them pulled away too quickly.

For the first time in weeks, Ohm thought maybe they were finding their way back.

P'Earth's words lingered in his mind

So Ohm let himself hope.

They filmed together through the afternoon. The crossover scenes with Earth and Mix flowed smoothly, even fun at moments. Nanon laughed once between takes, really laughed, head tipping back, dimple deepen. It wasn't the closeness they once had, but it was something.

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They lingered behind after everyone else drifted off, packing gear into vans. The set was quiet again, washed in harsh white light from the floodlamps.

Nanon stood with his guitar case slung over one shoulder, fidgeting with the strap. "You were good today," he said softly, eyes flicking up to meet Ohm's before sliding away again. "That last scene, it felt... real."

Ohm's heart stuttered. Real. The word he had been starving for.

"You think so?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Nanon almost smiled. "Yeah. It reminded me of..." He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Of us, Ohm thought. The air between them buzzed with it, that unspoken truth hanging just out of reach. For a second, he wanted to believe, needed to believe, that this was the beginning of something new, that Nanon was finally lowering his guard.

But then came the hesitation. The unfinished sentence. The silence.

Ohm's chest clenched. This was always how it went: a step forward, then two steps back. Half-answers. Half-smiles. Half-promises.

He laughed, short and bitter. "Yeah. Real. Funny thing about acting, it makes lying look easy."

Nanon blinked. "Lying?"

"That this is only work. That every look, every touch is just for the cameras." Ohm's voice was sharper now. "You keep stopping halfway, Nanon. Half a smile, half a sentence... And I'm supposed to keep pretending that's enough?"

Nanon wanted to explain, to say he was scared, that he'd been fighting himself, that maybe he was ready to stop but the words tangled, caught behind the fear.

The silence stretched.

And Ohm mistook it for rejection.

His laugh this time was hollow. "I get it. You don't feel the same. Maybe you never did." He shoved his hands into his pockets, forcing the next words out like a verdict. "I can't keep chasing something you don't want to give. So let's stop. Whatever this is...whatever it could've been, it ends here."

Nanon's eyes widened. "Ohm, wait—"

But Ohm was already shaking his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "It's better this way. We'll finish filming, we'll do the press. And after that..." His voice cracked but he pushed on. "We'll go back to being colleagues. Nothing more."

Nanon's chest ached. He wanted to scream that it wasn't true, that he did feel it, that he had been on the edge of saying so. But the words wouldn't come. Fear sealed his mouth shut.

So he nodded instead, shallow and sharp. "If that's what you want."

Ohm's expression flickered, just for a second, before hardening. "It's not what I want. But it's all that's left."

The silence between them, once bearable, once fragile, collapsed under the weight of what had just been spoken. Crew voices called in the distance, laughter echoing; but here, under the glow of the floodlights, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them and the wreckage between them.

Ohm turned and walked away.

Nanon stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest.

I was ready. Why didn't you see it?