Chapter Text
Mew was trying for very hard to convince himself everything was fine. It wasn’t fine.
“Cut!” Pique, the director, called out. “Again please.”
Another take. Mew took a deep breath and exhaled slowly though his nose. The scene that should have easily been done in two takes had somehow dragged into double digits. There wasn’t anything complicated or difficult about it. A short and simple shot of Tharn and Type at home in the evening. Type was supposed hold Tharn’s face, “I missed you” he would say, then cue a kiss. Nothing overly intense or complicated. A scene of domesticity punctuated by a kiss to communicate the particular sense of comfort and familiarity, the way messy and clumsy passions of early relationships ebb into something more deeply rooted, familiar, uncomplicated….
“Goddamnit!” Gulf cursed and let go of Mew’s face.
“Cut!” The director called again and an audible collective grunt of frustration resounded through the set. “OK everyone, let’s take five.”
Gulf slumped over, his face buried in his hands to muffle a flurry of mild curses, his right leg rapidly tapping the ground.
“Hey…Nong” Mew began, instinctively reaching a hand to rest on Gulf’s back, but his next words stuck in his throat as Gulf recoiled from him and abruptly stood up. Without thinking Mew grabbed his wrist. “Gulf!” he exclaimed, his voice a lot louder than he meant it to be.
The younger man hesitated. He stared at Mew’s hand on his wrist as if at some strange animal. It occurred to Mew then that the whole set had gone quiet and were conspicuously avoiding looking in their directions. “Let go please, Phi” Gulf said stiffly without meeting Mew’s eyes. His tone so uncharacteristically cold that Mew, startled, complied. He watched wide eyed as Gulf stormed off towards Mame and Pique.
—
For three days Mew tried to convince himself there was nothing wrong and that he simply needed to stop overthinking things. When Gulf’s responses to his LINE messages became unusually short and perfunctory, single word answers, punctuated by long, painful waiting for any reply at all that sent Mew’s stomach into knots, Mew told himself it was fine. They were busy after all. Busier than they had ever been. More and more they were each branching out on their own. Between that and the shooting starting for season 2 they barely had time to catch their break. Mew himself had been more tired than usual. That’s all it was. It had to be.
When every call made went to voicemail and every attempt to do a video chat was rejected with a polite reason through text, like:
– Sorry Phi, still at dance practice; Sorry Phi, dinner with family; Sorry Phi, need to sleep – Mew told himself these were all perfectly reasonable excuses. Reasons, rather. They were very good reasons.
Don’t overthink it, he told himself again and again, even as found it harderand harder to eat. You know him. You trust him. He kept reminding himself as he compulsively shut down and restarting his LINE app just in case.
If something was wrong he would tell you. He tried to convince himself even as the lump in his throat became a rock in his chest and kept him awake and tossing into early hours of the morning.
Calm down. He urged himself even as he rewound days and weeks in his head looking for clues to what he might have done to cause this. Terrified he missed something crucial. Terrified he messed up…again. Three whole days of this.
Last night as he lay awake at 2am he tried to convince himself it would all be fine. It was just that they hadn’t seen each other in far longer than any other time since they start their roles as Tharn and Type. He missed Gulf. He was looking forward to the next few days of shooting. They were scheduled to be on set together the whole time. Once they saw each other finally things would be like before. He couldn’t wait to fall back into their familiar patterns: their teasing and laughter, the way they always knew what the other was thinking with a single look, the easy way they fell into and around each other and how those moments felt like home. There were other things he looked forward to, things he often stopped short of dwelling on because these thoughts lead to rooms in Mews heart he wasn’t strong enough to go looking in, like:
The way they sometime abandoned themselves to their roles until the roles just became convenient excuses for….
Gulf’s over eager, hungry kisses that Mew relished and reigned in with reluctance before he lost himself completely and….
The way his Nong shyly broke eye contact after an intimate scene because the feeling overwhelmed him and it was all Mew could do not to…
He shook his head to clear it.
It was nearly 4 am by the time he finally fell asleep. Though calling what he did sleep would be somewhat generous.
In the morning Mew dragged himself to set. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this tired. For a moment he thought only of finding Gulf and taking him into his arms. This eagerness was quickly replaced by dread when he finally found him, but instead of coming to meet him, Gulf turned around and walked out of the room.
When they were finally all but forced to be face to face because that is what the scene called for, Gulf greeted Mew with all the warmth one might show a store clerk. Yet still, Mew told himself that he was reading too much into things. He tried to ignore the way his head ached, and his jaw tightened and his heart lurched when Gulf stiffened the first time Mew tried to touch him.
Whatever flimsy wall of denial Mew had tried so desperately to build up till now had crumbled into a pathetic heap as pulled away from him with again.
Something was wrong. Undeniably, unmistakably wrong.
“Wait!” Mew shot up and quickly closed the distance between them, interrupting the conversation Gulf was having with the director and Mame. He saw them both notice the way Gulf stepped back from him when he came close and it was all he could do not to panic. “Um, can you give us a second?” He asked politely of the two seniors.
“Will you tell me what the hell is going on?” Mew demanded, as soon as he felt they were out of earshot. The pleading in his own voice surprised him. “Would you look at me, please?” he added, fighting to restrain the tremor in his voice as he fought the muscle memory to reach out to him.
Finally Gulf raised his eyes and for a moment Mew thought he saw Gulf’s face soften before he seemed to recover himself.
“Nothing is going on. I asked if I can have a few minutes with the acting coach.” Gulf replied with feigned ease. Then, as if remembering, “You did great today.” he added and made such a poor attempt at a casual smile that Mew would have laughed if it hadn’t felt like a punch to the gut to realise Gulf, his Gulf, was lying to him. Mew opened his mouth to speak but could find now words. Before Mew could protest, Gulf turned and walked off the set.
“Mew?”
It was P’Mame. She looked concerned.
“You ok?” She asked “I’ve been calling your name.” She said. “You’ve just been…standing there for a solid minute.” She added carefully.
“Oh. Sorry. Yes I’m fine.” Mew gave a quick bow. “What’s going on?”
“Did N’Gulf tell you already?” She asked.
“Tell me what?” Mew asked, running a shaky hand through his hair. He was beginning to be very tired of being confused.
“We are not going to do any more takes of this scene today. He asked if we could shoot this one tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch “Since we don’t have a lot of time left today for anything else, P’Pique wants to do a few pickup shots of you from Scene 14. Is that alright?”
Mew looked at her for a moment, his mind turning over the last few minutes, waiting any of this to make sense and for the rushing pounding of blood in his ears to subside.
“N’Mew? Are you sure you’re ok?” She asked gently, putting a hand on his arm.
“Yes. Fine. Of course.” Mew stuttered a reply.
When Mame narrowed her eyes at him and did not let go he tried again.
“I’m fine. Really. Just…you know…. “ He trailed off hoping she would fill in the blanks and flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He couldn’t be sure, but her expression suggested that whatever he looked like, reassuring was far from it.
“Really. Just tired.” He said awkwardly. “I’ll go change now.”
“OK. One of the PAs will get you in five minutes for makeup.” She said, resigned.
Mew was grateful that these were only pick up shots. He tried to focus on the work and fought the urge to keep looking around or checking his phone every chance he got. Gulf never came back on set. As soon as Pique called it a day Mew catapulted off, rushing through his thank you’s, apologies and goodnights. He caught one of the PAs as she rushed passed him.
“Excuse me, Phi. Did N’Gulf go back already?” he asked her.
“I don’t think so. He was back there with P’Mame watching the dailies last I checked” She replied,nodding in the direction of the editing room. When Mew got there, the room was empty.
There were no messages from Gulf and for a moment Mew reached for anger to try and dull the ache that was quickly becoming too steady in his chest. It hurt less to be angry. It worked for only a moment. When he saw no sign of Gulf’s things in the dressing area either, the anger he was holding on to gave way to simple, clear, sharp dread.
He paced the room as he dialled Gulf’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. Fuck. Mew thought
– Mew: We need to talk.
He quickly typed into LINE and watched the message status change to read. He waited. Deciding suddenly to sit down before standing up again almost immediately. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
– Mew: I can’t make it right if I don’t know what I did. He added when he could no longer bear the wait. Seconds felt like hours.
The “read” confirmation hung there, mocking him.
He was about to send a more colourfully worded message when he saw the indicator that Gulf was typing a response.
– Gulf: Can I stay at yours tonight?
Mew blinked in confusion and reread the message. “Gulf.” he groaned with annoyance.
– Mew: We. Need. To. Talk.
He replied. This time the answer came quickly.
– Gulf: Not like this. Tonight. Can I?
Well, Mew thought, at least they were getting somewhere.
– Mew: Yes. Fine. Where are you?
– Gulf: In the car. I took your keys.
Mew shoved tomorrow’s call sheet into his bag and all but ran towards the parking lot