Chapter Text
Click! Click! Click!
The strobes of the camera flashes blinded illuminated the entire room with white as every journalist and news reporter in the room aimed their cameras closer to Milk. They chanted her name, hands raised desperately high above their heads for a possible chance that the famed actress would pick them.
"Milk! Over here!" "Milk! Question!" "Milk!"
Milk's name was worshiped among blog sites and social media, with each role she starred in, she ran every platform for days on end. Hashtags filled to the brim with posts singing her praises for her gifted talent, acting. She was loved by the public.
Milk was on a press tour for a movie that she had recently starred in. And as usual, the media spread the news of the film like wildfire, trending at the top of social media platforms within hours of the announcement. Everybody wanted to know the details of the actress' new work.
Positioned in the center of the room, she maintained a practiced, precise smile curving at the corner of her lips for the photos that'd appear on every headline known to man and woman. The stale air combined with to scent of cheap coffee was nauseating, it always made her stomach churn. Each passing moment felt like a hours until Milk escape the spotlights and go home.
They were on the last segment for the evening, Q&A with the media. Something that always had Milk on edge. As proven from past press conferences. Milk pointed to a middle-aged man in the back, his hand raised expectantly just like everybody else.
"Did you have any difficulties during shooting?" The middle-aged man questioned.
Milk's smile that began to falter. "I did." Her recollection of the shoot was a mess, miscommunication between staff, sickness spreading around, countless delays, all she could remember was the constant migraines she had during set. She had the entire room listening, eyes and ears drawn to her.
However, there was one person in the back, shifting uncomfortably in their seat with each word that left her mouth.
Someone from the back of the room called from across the room. "You're lying." The voice rang out from the back, stopping the conference cold.
The entire room turned around. Even Milk's manager, Ciize, peered out from the side to see what the commotion was.
A woman came into view, eyes narrowed on the actress that sat at the very center of the table. "You're making things up." she pauses for effect before twisting the knife further.
"The delays, the issues— it was all you." A few gasps scattered across the room, the recording cameras that were on Milk the entire time were now on the mysterious woman. Nobody knew who she was, yet people were already taking her word for it.
Everybody in the room pivoted back to the actress, anticipation gnawing away at the once lively atmosphere for her answer. To the media, this stranger was a gift, a new headline that the other reporters were hungry for. They wanted blood.
To Milk, she was a ghost. The woman's face wasn't familiar. No matter how far back Milk searched her memory, she couldn't recognize her at all. The woman spoke with a venom that made the lies feel like truth.
"Admit it. You were the cause for those issues." The silence that followed spoke louder than words. Milk tried to find the words to refute the false accusation, but she couldn't. Her mind was a mess.
Milk was put on the spot, and for the first time in her career, she was at a loss for words. She was completely blindsided, put in a momentary paralysis. Her heart was racing, drumming against her ribcage with each passing second. Thump, thump, thump.
This was her worst fear, sitting in the middle of the room with eyes questioning her true nature as a person. Gossip like that was inevitable nowadays, with accusations like this, those were hard to come back from- let alone die down.
None of the things she said was true, yet all Milk could do was part her lips open. Not a word or syllable could escape, besides the color draining from her face, blanching into a pale complexion. "I.." Cameras flashed, conversations that swirled around the room became drowned out murmurs.
"Where's your proof?" Someone chimed in, the cameras in the room swiveled to a shorter, brown haired woman.
The woman began to stammer, teeth catching her lower lip. "I don't.. I don't have any-" Her confidence wavering within seconds, she didn't think this one through. It was evident she wasn't prepared for a counter attack.
"Then why are you here?" The brunette cut her off, sharply. She stood up from her seat, allowing everybody and specifically, Milk, to get a clearer view of her face.
"Unless this is all for attention." She remarked.
The shorter woman seemed to hit the nail right in the coffin. Realizing she couldn't lie her way out of this one, the other woman quickly ran out of the room, mumbling curses and insults under her breath, leaving the nail in the coffin of her lies behind.
Milk was taken aback, watching the unfamiliar woman and an unknown journalist bump heads was a sight. Yet, knowing that even someone from the crowd was willing to protect her from someone who wanted to tarnish her image.. was comforting, relief that warmed her to the core.
Except, this one in particular was different.
This was Love's first time at a press conference since she began working for her news agency's tabloid. She had zero clue what these press conferences entailed, specifically, for movies. She also had zero clue she was supposed to come extra early to earn a chance to actually be seen by the person she was supposed to be writing about.
Unable to reach her hand high above other people's heads to be seen by the actress, Love gave up her chances on getting picked on. Instead, she sat typing away on her laptop, taking mental notes from other people's questions than to attempt to ask Milk a question.
She was out of Milk's sight, a needle in a haystack amidst those who had a height advantage over her.
Now, all of the eyes were on Love, expectant and waiting for her to say something more. She stood there clueless, the weight of hundreds of gazes staring right at her.
"Um… sorry." -was all Love could whisper.
Milk picked up the microphone that sat on the stand, her eyes made contact with the Journalist's, her lips curving into a genuine smile- not for the cameras, but from the bubbling warmth of her chest.
"Thank you."
At those words, the world outside seemed to dissolve, time froze, like it was only them in that room. The crowd became nothing but ambient noise that felt like it locked them into a moment that was entirely their own.
Milk sat with the bright, fluorescent lights beaming down on her, highlighting her beautiful, natural facial features. Her perfectly shaped face, to her beady eyes gazing at her with an emotion that conveyed something inexplainable.
The room lights outlined the refined shape of Milk's face, grasping the intensity of her gaze as she looked at Love with an defied expression that made her heart skip.
In that heartbeat, Love believed she was seeing an angel sent from above.
A red flush spread on Love's face, her cheeks hot to the touch. "Yeah.. of course." she drifted off, slowly settling back down into her seat, remaining stuck in that brief eternity. The room buzzed back to life, receiving praises from the people around her, the press conference continued like nothing had happened.
Milk had no choice but to continue answering questions for the next half an hour- though if it were up to her, she'd rather go up to the journalist and thank her personally.
The remaining questions ranged from more about the new movie, life updates about her cat, Sugus, any updates to her workout plans that fans are dying to know or question about unusual rumors that were eventually shut down with a "No comment." from Milk.
The conference soon ended, and Milk waved a quick goodbye as cameras flashed and flickered again, chatter soon died down once she left through the backdoor. Once it clicked shut, her face hardened into stone, expression rigid. An increasing resentment grew towards that mysterious woman in the crowd.
Ciize soon caught up with Milk, jogging up to the actress with her belongings. "Hey, you alright?" Not only was Ciize her personal manager, she's also been her best friend for years before the stardom, she knew Milk like the back of her hand.
"No." She replied, bluntly, sharper than a knife.
They approached her dressing room, all of the staff had dissipated from the room, and now it was just the two of them. Milk sank down on the crisp leather couch, head resting against a pillow. She exhaled sharply through her nose, staring at the ceiling with a vacant expression. "Talk to me." Ciize sat besides her, handing her a strawberry sent from her food support.
"That person.. who tried to say how I was lying about the stuff that happened during filming…." Milk began, and Ciize cut in. "You thought she was telling the truth?" The actress shook her head. "I don't get why someone would do that.. dismiss how I felt? And lie about actually being on set?" she turned to her side, facing her manager who could only shrug back at her.
"People will lie about anything to tear famous people down- Congratulations, you just experienced it for the first time." Ciize remarked in sarcasm. "You're lucky that journalist defended you, you were like a deer in headlights." She cackled at her own comment, in which Milk did not appreciate.
"That journalist-" Milk shot up from the couch, startling Ciize who was chewing on a strawberry. "Is she still here?" Milk stood, barely able to catch her footing from how fast she got up. She stumbled to the mirror, she began fixing the stray hairs sticking up from her scalp.
Ciize glanced down at her watch, "It's half-past five, I'm sure everybody is gone already, including her." She didn't know where this was going, and she certainly didn't like the way Milk was adding subtle touches to her makeup. "What are you doing?" Ciize was now standing too, leaning forward slightly like she was ready to catch a stray animal that was about to scatter away.
Milk turned back to face her, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I'm going to introduce myself." She scurried out of the dressing room, not giving Ciize chance to respond before she left.
The manager pinched her nose bridge, muttering curses at herself for agreeing to become Milk's manager. Milk was a handful to deal with.
Ciize hurried to grab her belongings, fumbling with her own jacket. She chased the actress down, hollering down hall: "You don't need to introduce yourself! You're a famous actress, everybody knows who you are!" No matter how much she pushed those legs of hers, she couldn't keep up with the taller woman, who had her long legs to use in her advantage.
Love ran a hand through her brown hair, staring down at the blank document on her laptop. She let out a long, drawn out sigh. She nudged her rounded glasses up the bridge of her nose. Seems like Love would be going home empty handed, so much for wanting to impress her supervisor on the first day.
She had to go back to the office in order to clock out. Not to mention, her stomach was rumbling and K-BBQ was calling her name from miles away. Love closed the laptop shut, tucking it away in her bag. What a terribly long day.
Love slung her bag over her shoulder, seconds away from exiting the building when a voice rang in her ears. "Excuse me!"
Love paid no mind it at first, thinking they were talking to someone else, and then she realized she was the only one there. She turned around completely, and never could she have predicted who'd be standing a few feet away from her.
Milk Pansa Vosbein.
Love was too stunned to say anything, frozen in place.
"You're the journalist from before, right?" Milk questioned, hands smoothing out the fabric of her clothes. Love blanked, blinking a few times to process that she was actually talking to Milk one-on-one. "Oh- um, yes, I am." God, she couldn't form a proper thought while making eye contact with Milk.
Milk's smile lit up the entire room, the way her eyes crinkling at the edges, in sync with the corners of her mouth, dimples appearing in her cheeks.
That smile could melt ice and everything around it.
"I wanted to catch you before you leave," Milk heard hurried footsteps behind her, getting straight to the point, she blurted out, "-would you like to do an interview with me?" She motioned a hand to a room that was labeled: Studio #1.
It was like the stars aligned in Love's favor. Not only it could it mean she'd get on her supervisor's good graces, except this time, she could talk to the actress without cameras and other people in the room.
"Really?" Love beamed at the offer, fixing her bag strap over her shoulder. "Of course, it's the least I can do as a thank you." Milk's smile only grew as the journalist's face lit up with the offer.
"Milk!" Ciize yelled for the actress' attention, Milk peered over her shoulder. "What're you doing?! The company wont be happy with this!" She dismissed her manager's concern with a wave of her hand.
"It won't take long!" Milk shouted back in response.
Milk turned back to Love. "Follow me." Love closely behind, her arms glued to her sides, and the widest, cheekiest grin on her face.
They entered an empty studio room, seemingly set up for another interview that never happened. The walls were padded with foam, black sound-proofing walls, holding countless hours of conversations in its' material.
In the middle of the room, sat two empty chairs facing a few feet apart, with spotlights pointing a few feet away from the seats. This was a room meant for an interview that was supposed to be filmed. Luckily for Love, she didn't like being in front of cameras.
Love awkwardly sat down on the chair, tapping on her laptop's keyboard before fumbling with the placement on her lap. Her fingers found a nervous rhythm on the keys, occasionally pausing to ponder what to write, followed by shy adjustments of her glasses.
Milk sat back in her seat, hands resting neatly on her lap, a picture of composed elegance. Love had barely spoken any words since they met, yet Milk wanted to know the words that told her story behind those glasses. There was something so compelling about this woman that charmed Milk.
"Shall we begin?" In an instant, Love's demeanor changed. She went from a tentative journalist, to a professional, seasoned reporter like a flick of a light switch.
The interview began smoothly, Love started off with questions about the aforementioned movie that Milk starred in.
.. and Milk gave the most detailed, expansive responses she could.
Each response was authentic, down to the littlest detail she shared with Love without revealing too much or anything off-topic. Love's fingers glided across her keyboard, filling the air with repetitive typing sounds. She felt her smile grow as her once empty document filled with several paragraphs. This was more than perfect, this was exactly what Love needed.
Throughout the interview, Milk observed Love had a fixation on her glasses, constantly pushing them up back her nose with her fingers or fiddling with the rim.
The interview soon went from the movie to certain details about Milk's personal life, allowing Love to ask burning questions that the media never got the chance to ask.
"Feel free to refuse to answer any questions, or request for any answers to be left out, Miss Milk-" Love's eyes and fingers were occupied on her keyboard, preparing for the next section of the interview when Milk burst out in laughter.
Love glanced up from her screen, "Did I say something wrong…?" She murmured, growing concerned at the sudden hysterics. Milk wiped a stray tear that formed under her eye, flicking it away, she shook her head, with a gummy smile forming on her mouth.
"No," Milk letting a small chuckle escape from her chest. "I've never had anybody call me 'Miss' during an interview before."
Love panicked, "Oh- oh, does it make you uncomfortable? I can stop if you want me to." Her solid, professional exterior began to fluctuate. Her mask flickering into panic.
Love was taught that formalities between her and the celebrity were the utmost important, as she quoted from her former professor: "Formalities establish the clear boundaries that define the interview." The possibility of that not being the case with every person she's talking to— slipped off her mind.
Milk hummed, she rest her elbow on the arm of the chair, her hand was balled into a fist, her chin resting in between her knuckles.
She locked eyes with the journalist.
"You can just call me Milk, no formalities."
The shift in the mood was palpable, too clear for even Love to ignore. After all, was just the two of them in there.
Milk was eyeing her intensely, and Love didn't know where else to look besides Milk's nose, which was annoyingly perfect. Love swallowed hard, gaze darting back to her laptop screen. "Right- noted… Milk, let's continue ." Still, she hesitated saying Milk's name without 'Miss' in front of it.
Her name rolled off Love's tongue so easily, Milk almost forgot that she was the one being interviewed.
Half an hour passed with flying colors, and Love had enough in her document have her supervisor on Cloud Nine. This empty document was her essentially her 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card. Milk handed it to her.
"Alright, that's all the questions I have today." Love hopped off the seat, her feet briefly dangling, swinging through the air. Across from her, Milk couldn't help but find the sight absolutely adorable.
"Thank you for this, I know you're a incredibly busy person and all-" Love couldn't be more grateful to Milk, her words spilled out so fast it made her own head spin, somehow circling to her job and then back to being thankful towards Milk.
Love impulsively grabbed Milk's hands, "This really means a lot, seriously." Her fingers brushed along the back of her hand, across the mounds of her knuckles. She gave her hands a delicate, earnest squeeze, unaware of how her gesture looked to Milk. Despite the harsh light of the studio lights beaming down on them, Milk saw a sparkle glimmer in Love's eyes, prancing with energy from the kind gesture. She was mentally soaring.
Milk was taken aback, her hands was in the clutches of a journalist, who was oh so appreciative of her and her time.
But she didn't want to pull away.
"Ah— sorry!" Love yanked her hands away from Milk, gluing her arms to her sides. She has got to stop doing that to people out of nowhere. Her face flushed a deep crimson, she was carried away by the moment.
The ghost of her touch still remained on Milk's skin, and perhaps, she wanted it to stay a little bit longer. The silence that followed wasn't cold, that sun-like warmth on her Milk's skin was still there, and she wasn't ready to let it fade.
"Could I ask you something?" Milk asked, her hands still hovering in between them. Love winced, still reeling from her impulsiveness. But Milk wasn’t paying any mind to it. "That woman from earlier, the one who claimed I was lying about what happened," Milk expression turned sour at the memory, the light in her eyes dimmed.
"Oh.. yeah?" Love swallowed the heavy lump in her throat, at least Milk didn't comment about her weird habit of grabbing people's hand when she was thankful for them.
"Why did you say something? You could've stayed silent like everybody else." Her voice was barely above a whisper. Milk, the famous actress everybody admired and constantly in the eyes of the media, was allowing somebody like Love to peer into her raw, unpolished state. It was a rare glimpse behind the red curtain.
It was the first time that someone like Love spoke up for her. Nobody else in that room wanted to defend Milk, they were hungry for gossip, something to fuel their headlines, blogs- whatever got the public's attentions. Out of all those people, it was just Love who was more than willing to provide a shield.
A moment passes, Love didn't have an issue answering her question. Regardless of the loud silence that had her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.
"You didn't deserve to be put on the spot like that."
It was such a simple answer, a reasonable one, in fact, and it touched Milk's heart. She couldn't contain her smile, a grin that revealed her pearly whites. Love watched Milk attempt to cover her smile by shelling a hand over her mouth, but nothing could hide the constellation of joy in her features.
"That.. means a lot to me—" It took too long for Milk to realize that she spent most of the time admiring the woman that she never actually discovered who she was, or her name. "Sorry, what is your name? I never caught what it was." How silly of her.
"Love. Love Pattranite."
"What about your last name?"
Love pursed her lips, Milk was staring at her rather intensely, prompting her to dart her gaze away before speaking. "…Limpatiyakorn." The latter picked up on the tone shift instantly, reassuring the woman with a slight tease.
"It's just in case I want a cute little journalist to interview me again." Milk shot a wink towards Love's way, which nearly threw her into a frenzy. She felt her neck growing hot, a blush creeping up her nape as she offered a small, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement, too flustered to say anything in response.
The air was sweet, filled with a warmth and a comfortable ambiance that held a promise of future reunions in the near future. Every time they'd see each other from now on, they'd be reminded of this very moment, etched in their brains.
Milk could sit there all day until the sun drowned the city in liquid gold, learning everything about Love. Unfortunately, Ciize had barged in. A whirlwind of energy that completely changed the air in the room from sweet to static.
She waved her vibrating phone like a maniac to remind her actress about the time. "Thirty minutes, Milk! Why aren't you out yet?!" Ciize's temper was at its tipping point, her patience evaporated into thin air the moment her phone went off.
Grumbling under her breath, Milk walked a few steps away towards the door, until she suddenly stopped at the threshold, turning over her shoulder. "Will I see you again?" A hint of hope in her voice.
Love had already made up her mind, her laptop, her job, the interview, everything felt secondary to the woman standing before her. "Yes, you will." Her voice steady.
Milk ducked her head, a radiant smile breaking across her face, carrying that private victory even when she left the room.
A sudden lightness took hold of Love, as if gravity let go of the room entirely. She couldn't suppress the grin that broke through to her face, tugging at the corner of her lips until her cheek ached. Her cheeks burned up with a rosy hue.
Milk hummed a sweet tune to herself as she strolled down the hallway, her arms swinging at her sides carefree. She was acting different, practically floating down the sterile, white hallway.
Ciize was skeptical, mounting by the second. Her brows drawing together in suspicion, furrowing into a deep V. "What is the humming for?" She spoke up, cutting through the tune.
She'd seen Milk come back from hundreds of interviews— nothing about her was ever different. Milk would leave the studio room the same person she went in. But this time was different, she was never quite like this, radiant for no professional reason. She was beaming with a warmth that felt personal.
"I just met someone really interesting, Ciize." Milk's voice was airy just like her steps, Ciize stepped in front of Milk, forcing her to halt her joyful tracks.
"Really interesting?" Ciize mimicked her friend's words, her suspicion boiling over the edge. "You're almost never polite to anybody with a lanyard around their neck. You even brought that journalist into a private studio room, when it's supposed to be the other way around."
Milk couldn't argue with that, so she only flashed a giddy smile at her manager. "Well, that journalist's name is Love. And she's.. very professional at what she does."
"Professional," Ciize said flatly. "And I'm rich with ten mansions. You're glowing, Milk. It's embarrassing." She held the back door open for Milk. A sleek, black van sat in the parking lot, awaiting for Milk's arrival.
Milk reached up to graze a finger along her face, discovering it was still feverish with heat. When the van door slid shut with a heavy thud, cutting her off from the outside world, she leaned back into the leather seat. That wide smile, a stubborn testament to moments before, never once left her lips.