Work Text:
A D R I A N
"And... CUT!"
There's been a mix of steam whistling off Adrian's ears and heat flushing over his sweaty nape. His two dumbass leads—for who knows what horny gods got into them—finally got his desired continuous shot right on the 19th take inside the toilet cubicle.
He groans upon standing up with a good stretch. His millennial spine has been crying out for a chair after crouching behind the cameraman, but these two are quite unallergic to being crotch-to-crotch on the toilet bowl—both their frantic hands tap and push each other away in surrender, yet their moaning mouths can't seem to pucker off from the kiss.
"Jesus fucking CUT, I said!" Adrian meddles, palming their faces away and Ryan instantly wipes his chin with the hem of his coat.
"I've been cuing him to stand up already!"
"And you're still sucking the soul out of me!" Naim's swollen mouth protests with his claw on Ryan's necktie, so Adrian just pulls them up by their collars and out of the cubicle.
"Get lost, you two," he mumbles and takes his turn sitting on the toilet, "be ready in an hour."
"Can't get enough?" Naim's taunting mutter echoes off the walls, followed by Ryan's scoff.
"You wish." The blond shoots back, voice fading beyond the main bathroom door. "My fucking jaw locked up, that's why."
The cameraman trails away with the young actors, keeping up with their mischievous banter, leaving Adrian and Amy behind exchanging a knowing look.
"Phew." Amy then giggles, clicking the clapperboard as she heads out. "Brace your back for the car scene."
Adrian can only squeeze his eyes shut.
All the blocking he has imagined, along with the possible revisions when that day comes in about two weeks, suddenly hits him like a runaway truck. And he seriously doubts how he's supposed to survive the rest of the month if a minute-long makeout scene has already left him this sore and frazzled.
"Fuck me."
Or might as well flush himself down the toilet.
N A I M
Checking his wristwatch and at long last, they finally get a glimpse of actual sunlight after being stuck inside that warm-lit bathroom for half an hour. Good thing it didn't smell like piss, or worse, formalin like Naim had anticipated. If anything, the scent was surprisingly like a breath of nature for a funeral reception—like a fusion of roasted vanilla and sandalwood—somehow more intoxicating than the cooling lavender back in their hotel rooms. And it's centrally air-conditioned, too.
No wonder it made Naim want to make out for a little longer.
Or so he would try to justify.
"Well, that made me hungry..." Naim mumbles, glancing behind them.
Adrian has just stepped out of the bathroom, hands planted on his hips, while the cameraman walks toward the outdoor table where some of the crew members are gathered, leaving both of them to head for the snack table on their own.
Ryan only huffs with a voice landing softer than his answer. "Same."
Naim just can't tell if Ryan is still sulking. He tried teasing him earlier, initiating some small talk just now, hoping to gauge his actual temperature beneath the cool demeanor. But somehow, any conclusion still feels like the wrong one. And now that there's no camera pointed at them or other people around to keep the act going, all that's left is a blank space for another assumption.
Sometimes, it seems to Naim that Ryan has far more going on inside his mind than the compressed responses he lets out, and Naim is all too curious with the buried truth under the cocky facade.
But how will he ever know if he's too scared to look like he's always chasing an answer?
"Hey." Naim starts anyway as they reach the tented table. "I didn't leave you just like that."
Ryan purses his lips, taking a styro plate and a wooden spoon then hands them to Naim. "It felt like it."
Naim's hands are still tangled together from his stubborn fidgeting. He only stares at the disposables given to him, then back at Ryan's unreadable eyes.
"What?"
Naim chews on his lower lip, "I'm sorry."
Ryan seems to force another huff, gesturing to the plate. "Take it, dickhead."
And when Naim does so, his earlier anticipation of Ryan ruffling his hair finally makes it out of his wishful thinking.
He feels his cheeks warming up by the second, not from the humid summer air, but from the butterflies flapping heat up from his gurgling stomach.
"I did kiss your cheek, numbass," Naim admits, eyes anywhere but on Ryan, trying so hard not to sound too cheesy about it. "Your fault you didn't feel it."
With a brief side-eye to Ryan, Naim catches him rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek with a subtle nod, before turning his head away to the green scenery.
"Right. I should be the one to apologize.” Eyes back to the table, Ryan opens up and takes a slice of his chosen treat. "I'm sorry. I don't even have the right to feel... I dunno. Hurt, I guess."
Now that Naim is being handed a raw piece of truth he's been digging for, how is he going to handle it? What does he even say to that?
"Y–you'r–"
"Hey! Joe Bird and your lovebird!"
They both turn their heads to their co-star Izzie at the distant table, happily waving them over from among the other middle-aged crew members.
Naim and Ryan exchange a quick glance at each other, unsure of the small smiles forming on their lips. So Ryan's gaze just flicks to the array of sweets, and Naim mindlessly picks what Ryan has gotten for himself.
"Good choice," Izzie comments, eyeing their plates as Naim takes a seat at the head of the table while Ryan settles across from her. "So how was it?"
"The cheesecake?" Naim then blinks at Ryan, as if looking for confirmation. But Ryan is just as blank and clueless.
"We haven't tasted it yet."
Izzie just lets out a sweet chortle. "No, your first kiss together."
"Oh..." Naim smirks at the clarification, his mind drifting back to last night instead. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he peeks at Ryan who's already taking a huge bite from his spoon. "Hmm."
"Hmm." Ryan hums back, seemingly thinking, savoring. "So good. Can't get sick of it."
Naim tries so hard to swallow his giddiness, pursing his lips around the spoon as he fills his mouth with his own treat, mumbling around the rich cream. "Mm. Same."
Izzie ends up laughing too, along with the two female crew members near their table who apparently overheard what they were talking about, and so they end up chatting with them for a bit as well.
"Izzie, girl, you're up in twenty!" The assistant director calls from across the set.
"Yep!" Izzie chirps back, eyes still on the good chunk of the mango-flavored treat left on her plate.
"'Kay. Vlog." Naim warns his co-stars a few seconds after, panning his phone camera to each one as he names them. "Iz... Ryan..."
"Yes." Ryan briefly acknowledges.
"... Cheesecake." Naim continues, camera focusing back on Izzie. "Alright... This is your what, first day of filming and you'll be lying inside a coffin? How does that make you feel?"
Izzie pauses with a click of her tongue. "Excited."
"Excited?" Naim laughingly repeats, shifting the focus to Ryan then, playful teasing in his tone. "And what did you just do?"
Naim can swear something flickers in his eyes upon watching Ryan smirk through the screen. Those skyline orbs do their magic in broad daylight, eyes quite bashful yet words confident as he admits to having just made out with his co-star.
And as the playful exchanges go on, with Ryan taking the phone to capture his own reaction, Naim can just lie inside the coffin himself, dying to the sweet husk of Ryan's voice—the cherry on top of his already melting heart.
R Y A N
Naim is an anomaly to Ryan's system. To what he thought wasn't possible. To everything he was so sure of about himself.
Not that it's a bad thing at all, but it sure is confusing for someone who's been attracted to women all his life. It's like believing in one religion by default, then getting thrown into another on a random walk. It's like someone added a different flavor to a recipe you made on your own—which doesn't ruin it, but instead makes you realize there's so much more to what you already thought was enough.
Ryan doesn't have the right words for it. Hell, he's just trying to come up with comparisons inside his head to make himself understand, because truthfully, he can't say what this new discovery is molding him into.
What does this tell him about himself? Just who is this Naim to the Ryan he is becoming now, and why did he feel so abandoned not waking up to Naim beside him?
Naim just started out as a chemistry read partner with undeniably pretty eyes... To a pretty guy Ryan finds so undeniably cute in each of their verbal or virtual combat... To a pretty soul so undeniably easy to love beneath the bratty exterior.
Wait...
Love?
Ryan doesn't know what's real anymore. Or if this is just a hallucination. What if this is only a fleeting fondness rooted in the sweet preparatory activities they had to do for the movie? What if after wrapping up and pursuing their careers in separate ways, this feeling just fades along with it?
Fuck.
Fuck, that hurts to think about.
Ryan's forehead wrinkles as he closes his eyes.
From inside the van, he's been watching through the tinted window as Naim finishes his scene outside, until his thoughts start to wander to the worst-case scenario.
"No..." He finds himself whispering under his breath, massaging the bridge of his nose. "I can't."
"You can't what?"
Ryan twitches as he turns his head behind his seat.
Right.
He got into the van minutes after Izzie.
"I can't– w–with this hunger." Ryan casually answers. "Where are they taking us for dinner, anyway?"
"Not sure... Oh finally they're done." Izzie says looking outside, and Ryan spots Naim walking towards their van.
It's like his fingers are by default fluffing his curls, butt shifting uneasily to his seat as he fixes his shirt. Lastly, he rests his elbow on the windowpane, resting his chin to his palm as he looks away from the sliding door.
"Oh gosh, my head hurts," Naim mutters, climbing in.
"Oops." Izzie daintily says, putting her tote bag on the vacant seat beside her. "Sorry, this seat's taken."
Naim pouts. "By who?"
Izzie blinks to it. "By my bag."
"What the f–"
Ryan cuts Naim off by tapping twice to the seat beside him instead, and Naim quietly takes the hint.
"I’ve got Panadol..." Ryan offers, reaching down to his bag but Naim shakes his head against the headrest with a tap on Ryan's thigh.
"It's fine." Naim murmurs with eyes closed. "It'll go away once I get to eat something."
Ryan eases back into his seat, though his eyes are fixed on Naim's hand still resting on his thigh.
He appreciates how adorably chubby Naim's fingers are, and how silver looks great against his skin, since Naim would either bury them in his sweater cuffs or pockets, or twist them together when he fidgets.
This tiny realization makes Ryan feel upset with himself. They've already shared a drunken night far more intimate than this, yet it's only now that he notices something this mundane about Naim. It's as if he wants to apologize, simply by scooping them into his palm for a closer look.
"What are you doing?" Naim asks faintly.
Ryan looks back at him, smile barely even there. "Nice rings. Where'd you get them?"
"Online," Naim answers with a tiny huff, "together with the sleep gummies."
"Oh..." Ryan mumbles, smirking. "So these are fake as well?"
Naim cracks up without a sound, eyes wrinkling shut with his other hand to his temple. "Stop. You're making it worse."
Ryan grins just at the sight of Naim laughing to his lame inside joke, but it sure is not enough happiness for him. "You wanna lean on me or something?"
Naim partly peeks with one eye. "Is it okay? My head's heavy."
Sighing, Ryan cups the side of Naim's face, guiding his head to his awaiting shoulder. "As if I didn't know."
As Naim gets all too cozy in their little bubble, Ryan just stares at the other van until it's ready to move.
"Okay, who's up for some burg–" Adrian climbs up and stops as he lays his eyes on his nephew. "What happened to him?"
"Headache." Is all Ryan answers.
"Oh, princess," Adrian whines, going further to the back seats, "you're not that sore, trust me."
Everyone shares a good laugh, even the other crew members trailing in after Adrian, and even Naim as he scooches closer to Ryan. The move simply compels Ryan to cup Naim's face again and lean his head over Naim's, keeping him still so the throbbing pain won't get any worse than it is now.
Or so Ryan would try to justify.