Chapter Text
The shift happened gradually.
After First shut him down publicly, the guest performer stopped hovering.
No more hands at First’s back, No more strategic leaning, No more loaded “You don’t need permission” comments.
But the media didn’t stop. If anything, they pivoted and now the narrative was:
“Tle’s Possessiveness Causes Tension On Set.”
“Is First Being Restricted?”
“Sources Say Rivalry Escalated.”
There were no sources, just speculation feeding speculation. Tle read them once, Then put his phone face down. First read them five times, And got angrier each time.
It happened during a live promotional interview two days later. Bright lights. A curved couch. A host known for “asking what fans are thinking.”
The host smiled politely into the camera. “There’s been a lot of online discussion lately,” she said carefully. “Fans noticed some tension during rehearsal with your guest collaborator.”
Tle kept his expression neutral — First didn’t.
“And some are wondering,” the host continued, “if there’s any truth to rumors of jealousy or conflict.”
There it was, Out loud. In front of thousands watching live.
The host turned to Tle first. “Would you like to respond?” Tle could have deflected or could have laughed it off. But he glanced at First — and saw the quiet intensity in his eyes.
Choose me out loud. So he did.
“There wasn’t conflict,” Tle said evenly. “There was a boundary.” The studio quieted.
He continued calmly. “When you work in this industry, people sometimes blur lines for attention. I don’t blame anyone for trying to create moments.” That was as diplomatic as he was willing to be.
“But if something makes my partner uncomfortable — or makes me uncomfortable — we address it directly.” The word hung there: Partner. Not co-star, Not colleague.
The host blinked slightly. “So you’re saying—”
“I’m saying,” Tle interrupted gently, “that protecting someone you care about isn’t possessiveness. It’s communication.” The camera cut briefly to First. He looked… proud.
The host shifted to him. “And how do you feel about the rumors, First?” First didn’t hesitate.
“I feel like people enjoy editing stories.” A small, pointed smile. “But the full story is boring.”
“Oh?”
“There’s no rivalry. No competition. Just two people who prefer standing next to each other.” The chat feed, visible on the monitor behind cameras, exploded.
The host tried one more angle. “And the guest performer? Any bad blood?”
First’s tone remained polite. “No bad blood. But I did clarify something.”
“And what was that?”
“That I don’t appreciate implications that I’m restricted.” The statement was gentle, But firm. “And I also don’t appreciate people editing someone important to me out of the frame.”
That one hit. The host nodded, sensing the firmness beneath the calm. “Well,” she said carefully, “it sounds like you both handled it maturely.”
Tle glanced at First. “We try.” The segment moved on, But the message had landed.
Later that evening, the guest performer requested a private conversation. No cameras, No team — Just the three of them in a quiet rehearsal room.
He looked less polished now. Less performative. “I didn’t realize it came off that way,” he admitted. Tle listened, First crossed his arms but didn’t interrupt.
“I was leaning into fan engagement,” the guest performer continued. “I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”
First spoke first this time. “It wasn’t the engagement,” he said calmly. “It was the implication.” The guest performer nodded slowly.
“And the comment about permission,” Tle added evenly. “That crossed a line.”
The man exhaled. “You’re right.” No defensiveness, No excuses, Just acknowledgment. “I won’t push it again.”
First relaxed slightly. “We’re fine,” he said. “Just… respect the dynamic.”
The guest performer gave a small nod. “I will.”
And that was it. No drama, Just clarity. The rumors died slower than they started, But they died. Because without new fuel, speculation gets bored.
A week later, they were finally home with No cameras, No stylists and No managers texting reminders. Just their apartment.
First was barefoot in the kitchen, wearing one of Tle’s oversized shirts, stirring something in a pan that smelled vaguely experimental.
“You’re supposed to wait before flipping it,” Tle said from the counter.
“I’m improvising.”
“That’s not how cooking works.”
“It’s art.”
“It’s eggs.”
First laughed, flipping them anyway. They were uneven, Slightly burnt but Perfectly fine. Tle came up behind him — not abruptly — just naturally, Arms sliding around First’s waist and chin resting lightly on his shoulder.
First leaned back into him automatically. “See?” First murmured. “No one’s trying to crop you out here.”
Tle huffed softly. “Domestic arrogance.”
“You love it.”
“I tolerate it.”
First turned slightly in his hold. “Be honest.”
“I am.”
“No,” First insisted. “Be honest about this.” He placed his hands over Tle’s arms. “Did it scare you?”
Tle didn’t joke this time. “…A little.”
First’s voice softened. “Why?”
“Because narratives stick,” Tle admitted. “And I didn’t want people believing I was something I’m not.”
“You’re not controlling.”
“I know.”
“You’re not intimidating.”
“I know.”
“You’re not replaceable.”
That one still did something to him. Tle looked down at him. “And you’re not naïve,” he replied quietly. “You handled yourself.”
First smiled faintly. “I learned from you.”
“Dangerous statement.”
First turned fully now, still within his arms. “You didn’t need to fight every battle.”
“And you didn’t need to defend me publicly.”
“But we did.”
“Yeah.”
They stood there for a moment. No tension, No outside noise.Just them and the warmth and the faint sizzle of overcooked eggs.
First reached up and brushed his thumb along Tle’s cheek. “You know what I liked most about all of this?”
“What?”
“That you never tried to control me.”
Tle frowned slightly. “Why would I?”
“Because some people would.” He leaned closer. “But you didn’t say ‘don’t talk to him.’ You said ‘that made me uncomfortable.’”
“That’s how it should be.”
“I know.” First’s smile softened. “That’s why I chose you out loud.”
The words landed gently between them. Tle’s hands tightened slightly at his waist. “You don’t have to keep choosing me publicly.”
“I want to.” A beat. “Besides,” First added lightly, “I get jealous too from time to time.”
Tle’s brow lifted. “Oh?”
“Yeah. If someone tried to crop me out next to you, I’d be insufferable.”
Tle laughed quietly. “I’d pay to see that.”
First tilted his head. “You don’t need to.” And then— He kissed him. Not rushed, not heated, Just warm. Soft.
The kind of kiss that feels like closing a door against noise. Tle responded gently, one hand coming up to cradle First’s face.
It wasn’t about proving anything, It wasn’t about territory, It was about reassurance and about presence.
When they pulled back, First smiled against his lips. “Still in frame?”
Tle brushed his forehead against his. “Always.”
The smoke detector beeped. They both froze.“The eggs,” First whispered.
Tle groaned. “You burned them.”
“It’s abstract.”
“It’s charcoal.”
First laughed, turning back to the stove while Tle stayed close behind him, refusing to step away. No cameras, No cropping and No speculation. Just them.
And this time— There was no competition, Just them.