Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All my life, I’ve been making sense of things through mathematical equations. Fates intertwine like dots on the same slope, destined to be connected in an infinite line. But sometimes, people are only there to linger, to just meet on one point of the plane, like a perpendicular line – destined to meet, but fated to separate. And when I saw you, I lost the image, the equation – for how can you plot a line meeting a star, without the star knowing that the line exists?

I often find myself wondering where I met you before I saw you. It was like a fleeting memory – a distant memory from the past, or perhaps from another life I have long forgotten. It was like a dream that lingers through the skin, and dwells at the back of the head, trying hard to feel the sensations again, while the memory slowly fades as the day progresses. Then I thought, if there ever was a lifetime that I got to meet you, that I got to know the real you and get to be with you, I wish it was in this lifetime. Because how cruel it is for me to see you, to meet you, to yearn for you, when you don’t even know I exist?

But then, if we meet, if we get to know each other and by the grace of the gods, our equations intersect, let it be that of a chord to a circle. No, let it be my sine to your cosine – for even if we are fated to be apart, we are always destined to find each other, always intersecting at the highs and the lows, the peaks and the depths, in an infinite loop of the plane. That when we find that our paths are without each other, we can always count our equations to work for us to meet again.

Chapter Text

Becky started her day early today. With her reading materials and field research on her upcoming role, she didn’t realize that the sun was well into the horizon by the time she lifted her eyes into the dwindling city lights, paving the way for the sun to luminate on their stead. Turning off her night lamp, she gathers the scattered paper on her desks and begins to prepare for her day.

She just got out of the shower when Blaine, her secretary, rings her up to remind her of her schedule for the day. “I’m on my way with your matcha latte and some breakfast before your day starts. Are you done with your shower,” she asks.

“I just got out and currently drying my hair with a towel. What’s our itinerary for today,” Becky asked in return.

“We’ll have a shoot at 10AM today for Vogue then lunch meeting with the producers for your upcoming movie and a script reading after. Then by 5PM, we’ll have that mall show with Janus to promote your show together. I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” her secretary said.

True to her words, Blaine started bombarding Becky’s flat with an incessant ringing of her doorbell. Gathering all of Becky’s necessities for today, Blaine urged her out of the apartment after giving Becky her today’s fill of caffeine and a chicken salad for breakfast. Cradling her sustenance for today, Becky slides onto the car while her secretary drives her to the location of today’s Vogue photoshoot.

Upon arrival, she was immediately ushered on her chair for hair and makeup. She tries not to fall asleep as her team does their magic. Nodding off from time to time, “Becs, please stay still or your lipstick will have lines from your lips to your nose if you keep nodding off like that. Didn’t you take any rest last night,” Mosby asked while trying to fix the smudged lipstick on her lips.

“I’m sorry, Mosby. I woke up early to read some research materials for the new movie and the time escaped me,” Becky says, pouting at the scold from her makeup artist. Becky is often like that when new roles are offered to her. She tries to immerse herself in the profession of her role and tries so hard for it to be as authentic as possible.

Unfortunately for her, this time, she was offered the role of a puzzle-loving programmer that joins a team of mathematicians in solving the encryptions behind the enemy’s daily broadcast messages. It will take her extra work to actually act that she loves math, because let’s be real here, who uses Number Theory and Taylor Series in buying matcha ice cream? Thanks, but the only TS she’s willing to be acquainted with is Taylor Swift.

It will even be harder for her to actually understand the script, not because it is Thai—hell, it is hardly ever Thai now since it’s just pure numbers and math anecdotes sometimes that she wonders if it was really the script or just random words that the writers wrote just to mess with her.

She was pulled out of her mathematical frustrations when Mosby urged her to stand and change into the outfit meant for the shoot which she flawlessly breezes through countless shoots and poses.

In no time, they wrap up the set and started making their way through the lunch meeting with her upcoming movie. Navigating through Bangkok traffic, they arrived just in time at an upscale restaurant. The receptionist greeted them and assisted them through a private conference room where some of the executives had already arrived. They talked to the group as the rest of their peers arrived.

“There is one more person needed here but she cancelled last minute as she had an emergency with her work. She will be the expert for this movie. Becky, you will be working closely with her. She should arrive before your first script reading session after this meeting. Any questions you have with the terms and the profession, she’s your person,” Alex, the director and producer says.

“Alright. Thank you,” says Becky.

With the meeting concluded, they started with the script reading. Even though Becky spent almost the entire week researching the terminologies and the semantics to actually understand the script, she still had a hard time acting the role. “Can I ask when will the expert arrive? I’m finding it hard to grip the concept of encryption and how does it work,” Becky asked Nam, one of the producers.

Just when Nam opens her mouth to answer, the double doors of the conference hall open and with the push of both hands, a girl on a messy bun, sunglasses and an oversized Hufflepuff hoodie enters. “Encryption is when you shift the array number of the alphabet based on the secretkey. For example, “A” is the first letter of the alphabet so it will occupy array0—”

“Why does it start with 0 and not 1?” Becky interrupts the expert.

“Because, Rebecca, in Math, everything starts with the origin points, everything starts with 0.”

Chapter Text

“You’re here! At fucking last! What took you so long,” Nam exclaimed as the hooded girl sat down beside her. “And what the hell are you doing with a hoodie? And a very nerdy one at that! It’s 40 degrees outside, for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s cold as fuck in the office, okay? Have you ever felt what the entire frozen section on a grocery store would feel? Because that’s how I feel every time I have RTO,” the expert says. “They’re so fucking scared that the computers will overheat if they do so much as crank down the AC for humans—”

“Can we go back to the topic of the conversation now,” Becky interrupts again.

Finally, pushing her sunglasses up, the expert slowly looks at the actress. Suddenly, all the distant chatter seems to fade and everything seems to blur. Everything except the pools of brown eyes staring back at her. It seems to hold so many untold stories, stories that Becky was so, so sure she’d want to dive into. She was pulled out of her revelry when the expert tore her gaze and stood up, pulling out a whiteboard marker on her Hufflepuff hoodie and pushed a drawing board in front, as if to lecture.

“So, going back before I was so rudely interrupted, again, let’s say letter A is array0 since it is the first letter of the alphabe—”

“Isn’t it a lot easier to just name it array1 since it is the first alphabet?” Becky says out of necessity. Because it should not be this unnecessarily complicated!

“No, it’s not. The origin of the word “alphabet” came from the first two letters of Greek, which is Alpha and Beta. Alpha means the beginning, and Math always begins at nothing, at zero. And Rebecca,” she looks at her, sharply, “you wouldn’t like it if you interrupt me again.”

As if to melt under her pointed gaze, Becky felt a chill run down her spine as her heart threatened to claw its way into her throat. ‘What the hell was that? Why am I reacting this way? How can she look at me like that, with those eyes? Why is she so ho— what the hell? No, no, no! I’m straight! I’m straight! I have Janus!’ Becky’s thoughts swam in just a fraction of a second.

Red in the face, she simply nodded and silently took notes of the answers to her question. The expert went back to the board and continued. “Just to give you an idea, let’s use just the alphabet, no other characters. So, we’ve established that A is array0. If the secretkey is, for example, 5, the value of array0 will shift 5 places from A. So, every letter A on the message will become letter E. Letter B will become F and so on, until it loops back that the last 5 letters V, W, X, Y and Z will be replaced as Z, A, B, C, and D respectively…”

The discussion continued as Becky cursed her younger self of falling asleep during their Maths, causing her now to have a migraine with all the information she’s learning. Had she been paying attention then, it would’ve been easier now to understand this mess. But in all fairness, the expert easily navigated them through the terminologies in the way they could understand. It just goes to show that she knows it like the back of her hand.

As hard as she was trying to concentrate on what the expert is saying, she also notices the subtle smiles the girl makes every time she talks about the theory of encryption. On how important it was during wars, or even how indecipherable it is when the key is unknown.

How she tugs her hair behind her ears and how weirdly she holds her erasable pen just so it won’t get smudged while she’s writing. That’s when Becky notices that the girl is a leftie. Huh… she was told by her brother, Richie, that left-handed people are more on the artistic side that deals well with art, languages and poetries and doesn’t do well in analytical ones. The fact that the girl in front of her is the irony of that made her even more curious about the expert.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when a shiny smile tugged on the girl’s face because of the horrendous fact that there is the possibility that the secretkey could be an entire matrix of numbers that will have to be multiplied lots of times just to decipher. Becky’s growing migraine worsened as war flashbacks of rows and columns of numbers flashed on her mind. Is she crazy? Why the fuck would she smile at that? But damn, what an infuriatingly angelic smile that was!

As the session draws to a close, Becky gathers the scattered scripts and notes across her table in haste. Wanting to thank the expert, she immediately turned her gaze into the drawing board, where she last saw her erasing the contents of her lecture. Her heart sank as she didn’t see anyone there anymore. She scans the room for the girl, but it seems like she has vanished out of thin air.

“Looking for her?” Nam asked, as sharp as ever. “She already left. She was called back to their office and left as soon as permitted. She left this for you, though.”

It was a note, containing gibberish words and a number.

Damn you, encryption!

Chapter Text

Weaving through crowds has never been a problem for Becky. Well, she says weaving, but mainly, she just struts through malls because guards give her a safe distance to pass through it. Not that she’s being smug about it, no. She’s very grateful for the security and protection she’s getting.

But sometimes, she just wants to blend with the crowd, to interact with them, especially with her fans, because she wouldn’t be where she is had it not been for them.

But she also knows the repercussions of being too near the crowd, especially at an event where she is expected to attend. She knows her fans will never intentionally hurt her, but there are also people who are the opposite, who are not her fans and who would intentionally hurt her.

So, at a safe distance, she waves through the crowd, smiles, bows, and gives autographs to those who are nice enough to ask. At least, that way, she can make the fans feel how she truly appreciates everything that they do for her.

As Blaine assists her to the mall’s dressing room, she sees Janus casually leaning on the door opposite her room, his eyes closed. He is wearing his usual warm but confident smile as if he’s waiting for the occupant of the room he’s facing.

“Hello, Janus. Have you been waiting long?” Becky asks as she bats her lashes towards the guy, who is now walking towards her.

“Not really, I just arrived. How was your day so far?” He asked, curtly.

“It’s been nice. I had a shoot and a script reading earlier today, so a little productive, if I say so myself,” Becky says. “How about you? How have you been, Jan?”

“That’s nice.” He is standing in front of her now, reaching her for a hug. Becky immediately hugs back, embracing the warmth the handsome guy gave. “I had a productive day as well. I signed a few contracts with the new business venture I have with P’Seng. I wish it goes well,” the gentleman adds.

Before Becky could respond, Blaine pokes her head out of her dressing room and calls, “Becs, we’re ready for you now,” as she urged the actress inside. She will just redo her make up lightly and dress up with it for the mall show.

“I’ll see you in a bit, Jan,” Becky says, pulling out of the embrace, immediately missing the warmth Janus gave.

“I’ll see you later, Becky,” he replies, as he walks back to his room for his preparation, too.

While Mosby applies her make-up, Becky reaches her pocket for her phone when a note got stuck with her phone screen. It was the note P’Nam gave her from the instructor. Feeling up for a little challenge, Becky asked for a paper and pen from Blaine and worked on the note.

The note is gibberish, but Becky had an inclination that the expert had wanted her to work on deciphering the note. And obviously, 8 is the secretkey. Becky may hate the subject with all her being, but she is not dumb.

So, with the pen and paper that Blaine lent her, she started by writing the alphabet one by one. She then backtracked the letters, 8 values previously. After 30 minutes of endless nape-scratching and brow-furrowing that left Mosby frustrated because he just did her hair, please stop this nonsense at once, she finally decoded the message.

Seemingly proud with her work, and absolutely not because of the weird feeling she’s feeling now, and felt while ago, she held the encrypted note close to her chest, as if hugging it preciously, and smiled her widest smile, with all four of her dimples showing. On cue, Janus enters the room, looking all charming and handsome.

“What got you smiling like that? Do I look so good that you showed me all four of your cute dimples?” the guy asked. He noticed that Becky was clutching something in her hands and asked if he could see. Becky gave him the note as his eyebrows raised.

“What is this, Becs? It’s gibberish,” Janus exclaimed while laughing. He gave the note back to a red-faced Becky.

“No, not about that. It’s an encryption. We practiced it while ago for a role I’ll play on an upcoming movie.” Becky explained. Seemingly uninterested, Janus plopped himself on the sofa and took his phone out to fiddle with it.

Removing the clear case of her phone, Becky inserted the note behind it before slotting the phone back to its case. She felt proud that she was able to solve the puzzle, even though it was a tedious task which made her wonder when the expert had the time to actually encrypt the message. Maybe she was just that good encrypting that she didn’t need a cheat sheet to do it.

As soon as she changed into her outfit, Janus stood from the sofa and escorted her out of her dressing room. The gentleman that he is offered his arms for Becky to hold on to, steadying herself against the high heels she wore.

They went on the stage and entertained the crowd and the fans, promoting their latest movie together. It is their 1^st movie together, with their previous TV series a huge success.

She was now accustomed to Janus, working with him for almost 2 years now. She began feeling for him a few months ago with how well he took care of her and how gentle he is around her. She can’t help but also notice that Janus might feel the same towards her as he also reciprocates her flirtations at times.

They breeze through the show, their chemistry palpable.

As soon as the event was finished, Janus, once again, helped her go down the stairs with his sturdy arms and guided Becky back towards her dressing room.

“Can I ask you to go out with me for dinner?” Janus asked, ever so gently.

“Of course! I’ll just freshen up a bit then I will see you soon.”

Janus went back to his room, visibly skipping when Becky said yes to her invitation. Chuckling, Becky immediately freshened up and climbed out of her dress to change into more comfortable jeans and shirt.

As she was finishing up, her phone rang with a call from her Uncle Fred, her dad’s brother. She excused herself from her team and went through a door that leads to an isolated balcony.

“Hello, uncle. It's been a while. How are you? Is everything okay,” Becky bombarded him with questions, worried that something might have happened at home.

Fred chuckles at the other end of the line, “Becs, calm down, We’re fine. I was just wondering if you’re free to have dinner with me and Auntie Em the weekend before this month ends. I invited your mom and Richie to come over, too.” her uncle said. “You’re free to bring a plus one, if you’d like,” he added, seemingly hinting about her status with her co-star.

Becky could almost see him waging his brows at her with a smirk.

Becky wants to agree because it has been some time since they got together for a meal. But she doesn’t know if she has strength to face her mom, though.

She’s been exhausted with her work and her gay awakening and thinks she doesn’t have anymore strength to deal with them. With a sigh of exasperation, she says, “Alright, I’ll try to invite Janus but I’m not sure about his schedule. I’ll tell him about it later during dinner.”

After the non-ending teasing from Fred, she finally says goodbye and hangs up the phone. As she was on her way back to the door, Janus rushed outside, banging the door against the wall with such force it startled her.

Becky knows he is handsome. But seeing him now makes her appreciate him even more. How patient he is with her, how respectful about her decision to take things slow, how gentle he is in every aspect. She can’t help but catch feelings for him.

But the next seconds seem to prove her wrong as she heard Janus on the phone.

“Dude, pay up. I swear by the end of the day, she’ll crack. I saw how the bitch looked at me tonight and I fucking tell you, food won’t be the only thing I’m eating for dinner.”

Becky stood there, frozen at the shadows of the balcony. “Yeah, I know it took me 2 years to get into her pants but what are you gonna do with virgins? They’re hard to crack.” This cannot be happening. She cannot be hearing this, not from Janus. Not from her sweet, gentle, and caring Janus.

“But I fucking tell you, Seng, tonight, I will fuck her until she can’t walk. I don’t fucking care if she has a runway to attend to. Do you know how hard it was to pretend to like that bitch? She fucking sulks at the smallest inconvenience. Jesus fucking Christ it irritates me every time—" he finally stopped when he was called by his secretary, confirming the restaurant and hotel reservations under his name.

“Alright, Seng, I gotta go. You better not hide and pay up!” he said while tugging the door shut behind him.

Becky stood there, still frozen, still in shock at the things she heard. It’s as if all the warmth, all the colors of the beautiful city lights beneath her was mocking her for how they shine, while she was left there, dimming, with a shattered heart, broken by mere words of a man so little… and she let him.

Suddenly, a voice cut through her thick haze of despair. “Did you finally decrypt it,” the voice asked.

Just then, a girl on a messy bun and an oversized Hufflepuff hoodie peaked her head through the corner of the isolated balcony, holding a dimly lit cigarette.

“Huh?” Becky confusedly asked, mid-sob. “O-oh, y-yeah. I have,” she said. “I-It was nice meeting you too, expert.”

“Call me Freen. And I wasn’t talking about the note,” a pause. “I was talking about him.”

Chapter Text

“So, have you deciphered him yet?” Freen reiterates, finally putting a name to the gorgeous face. Puzzled, Becky tilted her head and furrowed her brow.

“What are you talking about,” she asked the girl looking at the lights, still with her glasses on.

“I asked if you finally deciphered him,” she asked again. “He’s been in and out of here for the last few hours, talking to the same guy, bragging about how he would take you home tonight. It’s honestly annoying. He kept on disturbing the serenity of this place. I almost left and missed the drama,” she said, with a hint of amusement on her.

“Well, I’m sorry to disturb your serenity with my shattered ego. And I’m glad I was able to entertain you with my agony,” Becky said, sarcastically.

It didn’t seem to have an effect that Becky intended to have, though, because the expert just chuckled at her bite, turning her gaze to the city lights. Caught off guard, it was as if Becky was lifted with the sound, butterflies swarmed her stomach, forgetting the events that happened with now-an-asshole of a colleague. “What were you talking about anyway? What do you mean deciphering him?”

“Encrypting and decrypting is not just a form of a written message for warfare, Rebecca,” Freen says.

“It can be seen anywhere. I can see it by the way you are acting with your fans; you’re encrypting your tired self beyond your cheery waves and huge smiles. But when the door closes and the curtains hang loose, you go back to your raw, unfiltered, unencrypted self," she continued.

“Hm, and that is?”

Still looking at the city lights, she took a long drag and softly replied, “Beautifully lonely and mesmerizingly tired.”

It was almost a whisper, loud enough not to drown on the noise of the city and the breeze of their altitude. But the way the wind carried her words on Becky’s ears made her heart skip a beat—or did it just make it go faster? Becky doesn’t know. All she knows is that oddly as it may seem, she is confronted by the fact that this strange woman in front of her tries to at least alleviate the hurt she felt in a way that made her feel many, many new emotions she has yet to unpack.

To her surprise, the expert broke the silence once more. “I saw the look on your face when you heard what that douchebag said. I can sense that your ego wasn’t the only one that was broken,” she continued.

Then, she finally looked at the actress, her glasses now folded beneath her Hufflepuff hoodie. Her brown eyes twinkling, as if reflecting the lights below. “Your heart was, too,” she continues, then, silence. Not uncomfortable one, just… lingering. “But you know what happens to broken glass when it is hit by the right light?”

“What,” Becky asked, curiously.

“The shattered glass refracts, and turns it into a breath-taking kaleidoscope, shining colors that would never have appeared if it wasn’t battered and bruised.”

Silence fell once more between the two girls; thicker this time, crackling, as both are just lost in each other’s gaze.

Deep in Becky’s mind, she realized her brother was probably right, after all. Freen has a way with words that could sweep her off her feet effortlessly. The expert is seemingly unaware of the effect she has on the actress as she tears off her gaze to look back to the city and took another drag at the shortening cigarette she was holding, as if deep in thought.

With three huge strides, Becky closes the distance, grabbing the short stick out of the expert’s reach. Before her mind catches up with her actions, with Freen’s cigarette between her fingers, she aggressively pulls the expert’s collar and clash their lips with a wet, and not a very chaste kiss.

Becky can taste the combination of coffee and cigarette on the expert’s breath. She let out a sharp inhale as Freen kissed her back, sweeping her tongue on Becky’s lips, nipping, then gently sucking on it. Sounds of lips parting and meeting filled the balcony. For how long, Becky seems not to care. Strangely, it might have been hours, and she swears she could still do it, if it’s with Freen. Then—

“I’m straight!” Becky exclaimed as she harshly pulls away from Freen, breaking their bubble.

Freen chuckled again, a low, husky sound. “Okay…? You’re the one who kissed me, though.”

“That’s because—”

“It’s okay. I understand,” pause. Then she smirked. “But you know, spaghetti is also straight. That’s until, they get hot, and steamy—”

Red in the face, Becky claps Freen’s mouth shut. “Okay, okay! Shut it!” then, silence.

Becky sighed as she presses her forehead with Freen’s. Their breaths mingling, as if inhaling the same air—because they do. “Well, if you think I am somehow, unknowingly, encrypting myself in front of others, then tell me, Freen. Why does it feel like you’re the one holding the secretkey?” Becky asks, so quietly that it might shatter her to hear the answer.

Feeling each other’s breaths, Freen pulled away to look at the girl in front of her. Becky was taken aback at how ethereal Freen looks like under the dimly lit balcony, her face reflecting the moonlight. This is what Artemis probably looks like...

Yup. She’s definitely not straight. At least, not anymore.

Freen pauses, brows furrowed with the same expression she had earlier, as if deep in thought, and good God Becky just melts.

“I have no idea, Rebecca,” Freen interrupting her daydream. “But I think, somehow, this is where our equations meet. This is where our lines intersect. In the vast, vast plane of the Cartesian, this is where our fates intertwine.”

With that, Freen leaned in again for another kiss. A more chaste one—not rushed, not sloppy, or wet, or impulsive. It was more sincere, like the fates have been planning this meeting for a long time. And somehow, without uttering a single word, Becky understood.

This is where their lines meet… or was it something about intersection? Becky doesn’t know. She doesn’t remember because it is yet again, another one of the expert’s mathematical anecdotes that are not supposed to be as easily understood but somehow, it just makes sense.

Becky doesn’t realize that from then on, her previous straight linear equation of a life just gained an exponent, becoming a quadratic one. One that intersects with Freen, or whatever the heck it means.

They were pulled out of their little bubble when Becky’s phone suddenly rang, the call was from Janus. They both stared at it for a while, as if answering it will destroy whatever delicate balance they have right now. Becky, with her conflicting feelings and newfound confusions, answers the phone, pulling away from the expert, returning inside.

With the finality of the door clicking behind her, Freen takes out a new stick, lighting it up and taking a long drag. “I guess I was wrong. You haven’t decrypted him at all.”

Chapter Text

Becky found herself on a passenger seat with the man she used to admire. Janus, and whatever cool façade he was portraying, has his hand on the window, cradling his head while the other grips the wheel.

“So, I made a reservation on a Japanese restaurant that has the best sushi in town” Janus said cooly. Brushing his hair with his free hand while looking smugly at Becky.

“You might be under the false impression that whatever this is, between us, is still happening.” Becky said, coldly. “Let me correct that notion with you and set it straight.” The air shifted around the car. Janus stopped the car abruptly, the aircon wasn’t altered but somehow, Janus went cold.

“What do you mean, Becs,” the guy asked, confusion evident on his eyes.

“Seng. The ‘business deal’ you had with him. Did you honestly think you’d win?” the girl asked, seething. As if on cue, Janus’s eyes widened as color drained on his face.

“Becs, let me expla—” Janus started talking, but was cut off with the woman’s sharp gaze.

“So. How much was it, huh? How much was at stake at you, fucking me tonight that I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” Becky asked, calmly. Too calm.

“Where did you—” he was cut off, again.

“I heard you,” Becky said, still with her steady voice. Janus’s eyes went even wider, as if it was about to comically pop out of its sockets. “And thank God I did because I would have fallen for your traps, fallen for you. So, thank God you chose that the moment to barge into that balcony tonight as I was about to wrap up my call with Uncle Fred.”

“Becs, please—” Janus pleaded, obvious panic on his voice.

“Stop. Don’t give me more reasons to find you even more pathetic than you already are,” Becky said, and with finality, she unbuckled her seatbelt and slipped out of the car.

Pulling out her phone to call her secretary, she took in what happened. After a moment, she sees Janus driving away, his taillight fading to distance. The confrontation, the way Janus still tried to lie his way out of the situation, she now sees as a quiet manipulation. How can she not see it all? Was she in so deep that she chose not to?

She just wanted to believe that there could be someone that is willing to share the burden of the life she chose. And for a moment, she thought Janus can, that since he’s on the same field, her on-screen partner, and it’ll be easier to let him.

But when did it get so hard? The need to act like Becky, the ever-cheerful sun that everyone claims. Becky, the playful ball of energy. How can a nickname bear so much responsibility, a weight so heavy, so thick, that it made her feel suffocating, drowning.

Yet, she was strangely proud of standing for herself, of cutting someone loose without so much as a tear. Considering it wasn’t just anyone, it was Janus. She felt fierce. Powerful. Invincible. Someone who knows their true value, never compromising, never settling.

Staring at her blank phone, she unlocked it when a blue Ford Eco Sport stopped in front of her, pulling her out of her thoughts. Brows furrowing with the unknown car, she wondered who it was when the windows cranked down to reveal Freen, with her Hufflepuff hoodie up and glasses perched perfectly on her pointed nose. Nerd!

“What are you doing standing on a sidewalk at this hour? Weren’t you with that douche?”

“No, I’m not. Not anymore. I confronted him and cut him loose.”

“Huh, so you deciphered him, after all,” Freen mumbled.

“What’s that?” Becky asked, not hearing the expert properly.

“I said, do you want a ride?”

A nod.

“Hop in.”

The car ride was a comfortable silence. Stopping at the red light, Freen turned and asked Becky where to take her. “Home. I just want to go home. It’s been hell of a day, and I just want to have a nice, long bath.” Becky says.

“That’s all well and good,” Freen says, driving at the green. “But pardon me, do I look like I know where that is?” A silence. Then, they both laughed at the playful banter, making the ride more enjoyable, not that it wasn’t before.

“Before that, have you had dinner yet? Am I right to think you never even got to dinner with your douche?” Freen asks.

“He’s not my douche.” Becky rolls her eyes at the comment. “But sure, let’s grab a bite. I’m starving!” As if on cue, her stomach made a grumbling noise that filled the silence of the car.

Freen chuckled at the noise. “I can hear that.” She says, “Alright, miss ma’am. How do you feel about a late night McDo?”

--

Pulling out of the fast-food chain, Becky enters her address at the GPS. Becky asks the expert, “Do you want to listen to some songs while we’re on our way?”

“Sure,” Freen shrugs, pressing play on her console.

“THERE WOULD’VE BEEN NOTHIN’ LEFT TO DO FOR SOMEONE LESS ASTUTE—” Next.

“I’M NOT THROWING AWAY MY SHOT—” Next!

“HOW DOES A BASTARD, ORPHAN, SON OF A WHORE GO ON AND—” fumbling—almost panicking, Freen hit the stop button with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, I was on the mood for chaotic Hamilton this morning and played it on shuffle. Then forgot about it. Please connect your phone and play whatever you want,” she continued, her ears an absolute crimson as she pulled stop at a red again, not meeting her eyes.

And with that, Becky laughed, really laughed, which shocked the driver. Tears threatening to spill as she breathlessly waves her hand no.

“What’s with the panic?” she asked, still laughing at how flustered the expert was. “You’re so adorable! I was planning to listen to it anyway. Can we listen to it? But not in shuffle, though. That was a bit…”

“A bit what?” Freen looked at her, imploringly.

“Unhinged.” Becky smirked. And then, they both laughed, again, at the playful banter that surrounds them.

With Hamilton played at the first song, they continued the drive as Freen absent-mindedly drums her fingers to the stirring wheel and mouthing the lyrics as silently as she can. Becky strains to hear it, though, noting that the driver has never missed a lyric of the musical despite it being English. She mumbled even the second voice.

Soon, after the song ‘Satisfied’, they reached Becky’s address. Becky unbuckles her seatbelt and thanks Freen for the ride. Pausing the music, Freen unbuckles her seatbelt too, and circled around to open Becky’s door to open it. “Thank you, not just for the ride but also for the food and great company,” Becky says, sliding out of the car.

“No problem, your majesty.” Freen bowed in fake courtesy. Chuckling, she was about to turn to the door when Freen says something that made her shive.

“That was the most carefree laugh I’ve ever seen from someone. Lots of dimples were shown but it made me hope it was genuine. I hope, after the car ride, you’d go back to your unencrypted self and be the same carefree girl, listening to a musical about a beer-induced rebellion.

“I hope after you close the door, you’ll feel at ease and be the Becky you really are, not the Becky that people expect you to be,” she says. “And if not, I hope you find someone to share that burden with before it crushes you.”

Becky smiled, a real, genuine one. “Thank you, Freen.” I hope so, too.

“Alright! I’ll hit the road. Good night, Becky.”

“Good night, Freen.”

Freen was about to turn her back when a pair of lips grazed her cheek. “And it was genuine. Thank you for making me feel free, even if we were listening to the horrible voice of Lin Manuel-Miranda,” she smiled slyly, showing a dimple on her cheek.

“Hey! What do you mean Lin has a—”

“Good night, Freen!” Becky shouted as she runs back to her door, closing it behind her. Becky leaned into the door, settling into the dark, quiet room, opposite of the quiet storm brewing inside her. The power she felt earlier? Might as well be a fucking exponent because she isn’t feeling as… linear as she was yesterday.

Chapter Text

Becky was fiddling with her phone, taking a break from studying her script for the movie when she came across an Instagram account with username ‘poemsforbecky’ with one of her pictures in black and white with a cap. She scrolled through the few posts and on them, as if captions on each picture, were words that forms a poem.

Curiosity got the better of her and scrolled through the page. The description says that the pictures were not taken by the owner, that they were only the inspiration for the poem and that the owner have yet to meet Becky. It made her chest lighter as the words of the poet seeped through her. They haven’t even met the actress and yet they feel so much for her already. Feeling grateful for the words, she scrolled and notices that the latest post was over week ago.

After such a stressful, rollercoaster of a day, the few posts felt like a tonic that healed and soothed her to the bone. The next thing she knew, her alarm went off, signaling the end of her 10-minute break. She studies the script again, well into the night, her mind drifting over someone with a messy bun and an oversized Hufflepuff hoodie from time to time.

--

The next morning, Becky wakes up to her ringing alarm, stretching over the bed and reaching her phone to stop it. Placing the phone back to her nightstand, she sprawled herself over the huge bed, taking a minute to ready herself to another long workday. She was forced to sit up when, once again, her phone ringed. Expecting it to be Blaine, she answers.

“Blaine, I swear I’m already—”

“Becs, it’s me—” Becky moved her phone away from her ears and looked at the screen, Janus—she ended the call immediately.

Well, good fucking morning.

As she was coming out of the shower, Blaine walks in with her schedule for today, cradling a tablet on one hand and her usual matcha dose on the other. “You’ve got another photoshoot lined up for today, and an interview with Janus regarding your new movie,” her secretary says, catching her up with her itinerary.

As they were on their way to the car, Blaine breaks the silence. “So, speaking of Janus, how was your dinner last night? Did you finally make it official with him?” Blaine asks, which earned a shrug from the actress.

Shocked and intrigued from Becky’s aloofness, “Oh my God! What happened?”

“Nothing. I overheard him making a bet with Seng on whether he would bed me after our supposed ‘dinner’. Joke’s on him though since we never even got to the restaurant. I called him out for it on our way and cut all contacts with him.” Becky replies, coldly. “Please take note that I will only be talking to him strictly for work. Any invites outside that, please decline it for me, Blaine.”

“Oh damn, what the actual fuck. And here I was, thinking that he’s one of the good guys. Turns out, he’s just an asshole. Noted on the meeting, though.”

“Thanks,” Becky says.

“How did you go home last night, then? I don’t assume Janus took you home after you left him. But Becky!”, her secretary exclaimed. “That was reckless! Anything could’ve happened to you! Were you hurt? How were you able to go home? Were you able to grab a meal?” Her assistant bombarded her with questions.

“Oh my God please stop with the incessant questioning! I haven’t taken my caffeine yet!” Becky says, exasperated. “I thought my interview starts after lunch, not during a fucking car ride!”

“Alright, alright! I’ll back off, queen!”

After that, silence filled the car. “Can we listen to Hamilton?” the actress breaks it.

With her eyebrows raised, Blaine cocked her head towards the actress. “Hamilton? Like the musical? I thought you didn’t want to since, and I quote, ‘Lin Manuel-Miranda’s singing voice sucks ass’.”

Laughing at the expert’s offended memory, Becky says, “I don’t know. Things can change. Perhaps it grew on me…” Becky trails off, like contemplating something deeper than her prose. “Plus, Leslie Odom Jr. is enough to make up for Lin,” Becky adds.

“You’re weird. Things can change, but not for you. You have the straightest path planned out for you,” Blaine replies, which earned a chuckle from the actress. Puzzled, Blaine looks at Becky imploringly, not sure from which part of what she said was funny. But for Becky, the word straight was reason enough to laugh because of the… recent changes.

“Just play Hamilton, will you? Start with Satisfied,” she says, which earned another look from her secretary.

“Why would you—”

“Blaine,” she threatened with a warning look.

“Alright, alright. If you want to play the most excruciating song of the entire musical after ‘It’s Quiet Uptown’, who am I to judge?”

By the time they arrived at the photoshoot, Becky’s head is dizzy with the fact that no matter how renowned Hamilton was, he’s still a fucking cheater, just like most men. Seriously, men.

Speaking of men, Janus pulls up in front of them as they were entering the lobby of the shooting location. “Good morning, Becs,” he said, entering the lobby with them.

“Good morning, Janus,” she said with a smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“Look, about what happened last night, can we talk—”

“There isn’t much to talk about, Janus. Please don’t bother me unless it’s for work. Let’s at least be professional,” Becky interrupts, coldly. “And oh, congratulate Seng for me. He won the bet, didn’t he?” she smirks, then turned her heels and headed towards her dressing room.

“Don’t we have a schedule for the new movie today, Blaine?” Becky asks her secretary while drinking off her matcha cup.

“No, nothing scheduled today. You’re free the entire day after the interview with that asshole.”

Becky thanks her secretary and went back to drinking her matcha absent-mindedly. She wonders when she will meet that girl again, the girl who hasn’t come out of her mind the since the moment their eyes met back at the script reading session. Maybe, it’s for the better. Since she’s still very confused about what she feels and it doesn’t help that every time she sees the girl, her mind goes haywire.

She breezes through the shoot and the interview with Janus for the promotion of their movie. Thankfully, the guy didn’t really bother her much after their encounter at the lobby and remained professional all throughout. However, as she was about to leave her room, Janus corners her again. “Becs, I swear, I’ll get you back. I’ll make sure to gain your trust again. Please, just let me explain.”

Exasperated, Becky just continued walking away, not even sparing a glance at the guy. The audacity of some men amazes her sometimes. Not that she cares much about him anymore, she’s just… done. But it just the thought of his persistence is enough to exhaust her. Like, really, can she not deal with this ass anymore?

Becky’s itinerary after the interview clears for that day, just like what Blaine promised. Needing to blow some steam, she asked Blaine to make a reservation to one of the high-end bars and invited her team for a drink.

At the bar, she orders a round of drinks for their group and settles on a booth that’s tucked on the corner. As a VIP client, it is one of her privileges to have since it is one of the quieter corners of the place, having some privacy while still having a view of the dance floor. After a few rounds of swig, she weaves through the crowd and finds herself on a quiet balcony with fairy lights, reflecting the city lights below.

As she was leaning against the railing, she hears a faint strumming of guitar, as a soothing melody floods her hears, ironically drowning the loud music inside.

Unable to locate where the melody comes from, she closes her eyes, feeling the strums of the guitar lull her mind.

“Binibini, sa aking pag tulog, ika’y panaginip ko

Panaginip ng kathang dakila nitong pag-iisip ko”

The singer, a girl, sings a soft melody of a language familiar to Becky. She thinks it’s Filipino since she heard Richie, her brother that currently works in the Philippines, speak some of the words. She lets the melody flow through the chill of the evening breeze, like a gentle blow of fresh air despite the heavy, partying atmosphere inside.

“Binibini, ang aking dalangi’t dasal, dinirig mo raw

Wika mo raw, ‘Iingatan ko magpakailan pa man, ang purong pag ibig”

The girl continues, her tone, hopeful, encouraged, heartening. As if she had allowed herself to indulge on a dream long held, long felt, but never quite reach.

“Oh ‘kay ganda, oh, ‘kay gandang mag-alay sa’yo…” the girl finishes the song, letting the sound of the guitar faintly reverberate through the air, as if longing for someone, contemplating the last lines of the lyrics.

After a few minutes of silence, almost missing the warmth of the singer, she finds her way back to the noise of the bar, finding an already intoxicated team. Redirecting her steps away from that mess to the comfort room, she spots a familiar girl sitting on the bar, with a messy bun and a hoodie, glasses on perched on her nose. Freen was holding a drink. She was about to approach her when the girl beside her started talking to her, batting her lashes in Freen’s direction. She swears didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation, she just… accidentally intended   to go to their direction, opposite to the comfort room she wanted to go to earlier.

“So, I can feel you staring at me from the moment I sat here. Can I finally ask what your name is? Or should I just call you gorgeous?” Freen said.

“You can call me Nico,” the girl chuckled. “How about you? What can I call you?”

Smirking, Freen raised one of her eyebrows, “Tonight, you can call me yours,” she winked.

The girl, Nico, pressed nearer, entering Freen’s personal space. “No, seriously though.” She chuckles, “What’s your name?” the girl whispered, lips brushing Freen’s ear. How did Becky hear that through the loud music, no one knows.

“Rain,” Freen said. Becky smirked at the fake name the girl was given, as to why, she didn’t know. Or at least, she was denying not to know.

“What a pretty name. Suits a pretty girl like you,” Nico said, pressing further.

“Oh really? Then you should hear my number,” Freen says with a wink. God damn it, this girl got moves, it’s infuriating!

Huffing with the ugly feeling raising in her chest, she went back to their table before she sees anything that she will enrage her. It’s not like she had any right to feel this way towards Freen, right? She just saw Becky when she was vulnerable. Becky just kissed her impulsively. She just drove her home and listened to Hamilton with her. No big deal, right? It didn’t mean anything… didn’t it?

She went back to the balcony, inhaling the evening breeze once again to calm her down. Becky found herself fiddling with her phone when a notification popped up. It was with that account, poemsforbecky. She had turned on its notification using her old Instagram account since it was refreshing for the actress always read the letters of her fans, not to boast her ego, never, but for her to feel that she is doing something that inspires people to do anything that she sparked a sliver of creativity on them, enough that they would form these words for her. And she appreciated that, she truly did. She clicked the notification, opening the new poem.

Becky sighs beneath the city lights. “Poemsforbecky, you balm me,” she whispers to the night.

Chapter Text

Becky woke up with the worst headache and the driest her throat have ever been. After that fiasco of a night, she was now sure that in the short encounter that they had, she finally admits to herself that likes Freen. She’s determined to take as much attention she can get from the expert today, that is, after taking some Advil because what the fuck did they drink last night?!

After confirming today’s schedule with Blaine, she takes a shower to prepare for her day. She’s scheduled to work with her new movie, The Turing Machine, for the entire day, finally shooting the trailer scenes today. Which means, Freen will be there. She’ll be with Freen. For the entire day. Only realizing that now, she darts into her closet and pulls every outfit she can get. She needs to prepare!

Blaine walks into a hurricane. Disoriented and panicked, she finds a total contrast of Becky’s usually neat room. Heaps of clothes carelessly thrown, jeans, slacks, hoodies scattered on the floor. “BECKS! WHERE ARE YOU?! ARE YOU OKAY? WERE YOU ROBBED LAST NIGHT?!” Blaine shouts into the room franticly. “REBECCA PATRICIA ARMSTRONG ANSWER ME! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“You need to calm down! I’m in the bathroom!” Becky calls. She finds the actress fixing a smudge on her lips, puckering it in front of the mirror. The moment she saw Becky, her jaw dropped to the floor. She’s wearing a white satin blouse that opens to her black sports bra and a high-waisted jeans that hugs her hips perfectly. “Let’s go?”

“Wha—what…” Blaine stutters with Becky already at the door.

“Let’s go!”

Arriving at the filming location, Becky takes in her surroundings. They are set to film at an old Victorian-looking building, with crew busying themselves with what looks like a machine that occupies an entire room. Cogs and gears to be assembled, with wires and plugs carelessly left on the floor while typewriters and desks occupy the other.

Then, she sees what she was looking for, or rather, who she was looking for. Freen is by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, sitting on the floor with a black Ironman shirt, and loose shorts. She wears a pair of sketchers, hiding a pair of vibrant yellow socks with a badger on her ankles. She is cradling a book that’s spread at 20 degrees that she wonders how Freen could read through it. ‘My nerd,’ Becky sighs to herself.

Sensing someone approaching, Freen closes her book and looks up to see the actress going her way. Her eyes widened as she immediately shoots up from her comfortable seat and runs to Becky.

“Rebecca, what are you wearing?” she asks as she hurriedly close Becky’s shirt, looking around the men working on the set.

“Come on now, Freen,” Becky chuckles, “It’s hot outside! Plus, I’ll have to change often for this shoot, so I had to wear something easily removable.” ‘And I’m trying to get your attention. And it worked!’ high fiving herself.

Sighing, the expert says, “I apologize. I know it shouldn’t matter what people wear but you shouldn’t wear such revealing clothes to shootings. It’s not appropriate for work,” Freen says, coldly.

Frozen with the sudden change of demeanor, Becky looked at her, puzzled. As if on cue, the girl from last night runs towards them, wearing an off-shoulder sundress and a cap.

“Rain, baby!” Nico runs to Freen and places a peck on her lips. “Where were you this morning? I woke up to an empty bed and you’re gone,” Nico pouts, clinging into Freen’s right arm.

Stunned, Freen felt a sharp gaze land on them. Looking at Becky, she removes the hand from her arm. Freen says, “Nico, what are you doing here? I had to go to work and—”

Becky walks away without a word and strides between them, separating them both. She sits herself on her chair while Mosby starts with her make up. She’s seething with jealousy and anger. Yet, she’s frustrated at the fact that even though she had no right to feel these things, she still does. She feels envious that a random girl Freen met last night was able to see Freen, to connect with her, to be hers, even only for a night.

Becky tries to brush off what she's feeling. She's got competition, so what? She's not someone to back down from it. Bring it on, bitch.

A clap from Alex pulled her out of her unpleasant thoughts, taking the attention of the room. “Good morning, people! As scheduled, we start the shooting today for the trailer. I hope you all are ready. Freen, please take the team into a tour of what the crew is assembling and the general theme and setting of the film.”

Freen nods a salute, “Ryou!”

“Alright, that's all. Cast, please gather for the lecture,” Alex commands the group. “Oh, and by the way, guys, meet Nico. She will be joining us as one of the spies. Becs, you'll be working closely together so please guide her through the set.” Becky nods, now understanding as to why she’s here.

As they tour the set with Freen on the lead, she explains the cogs and gears of the machine. “So, this is a replica of the Turing Machine. It was the machine who decoded the German broadcasts during World War II. By placing the cogs into the appropriate slot, it prints out the deciphered messages, listing the bombing time and locations the next day.”

Nico, tapping Freen’s arm, asks, “Why do they need to know the locations when it is already destined to be bombed?”

Becky rolls her eyes, “Well isn't it obvious? They need it to know which one to prioritize and where to evacuate the troops and the civilians.”

“Rebecca is right.” Freen says, gaze still on the machine. “That was precisely why they needed to work with decrypting the morning messages from the Axis. They also revealed the position and the coordinates of the German bombers.”

Becky didn’t understand the expert’s push and pull attitude. Earlier, she acted like she cared about her, even covering her bra with the shirt loosely tucked on her jeans. Then, now, she can’t even look at her like she’s an eyesore. Maybe she didn’t really care. Maybe she just cared about being strictly professional with work.

They tour through the set, with Freen explaining the history and the math behind it, which fascinated Becky more. As the group started with the filming, Becky had a hard time finding Freen alone since the cast needs her help as much as they can.

The sun was bleeding orange by the time they finished the shooting for the day. As they were wrapping up, Becky found Freen on her laptop, glasses reflecting the lines of codes she was working on. “Yes, Lau, I can see that. Let me finish up with this ticket first. Give me a sec,” she said. “No, it’s not yet ready for the next Sprint, Percy. I don’t think I can do it after the code freeze either. I’m working on the favor Nam asked, and I just started so I will be dialing down with the coding for the meantime.

“I’ll still do the analysis and the visualization, no worries, Seth. Alright, Lau, I already sent the hot fix. Please let QA know. I’ll talk to you guys in the morning. I need to wrap up with the set, too.” A pause, “Alright. Good night, team. Osaki ni shitsurei shimasu.”

Freen closes the laptop, removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. She then stretched her limbs and massaged her nape, as if it has been stiff for the past hour. Her eyes flutter open when she feels Becky sitting beside her. “What was that you said last? Was it Japanese?”

“Why are you here,” Freen asked coldly. “Shouldn’t you be wrapping by now? Do you have any more questions with the script before we wrap?”

“No, none at all. I just wanted to—”

“Then, I’ll take my leave from here. Have a good night, Rebecca.”

As she was about to get up from the couch, Becky panics, not wanting to cut their conversation short. “Sorry to ask, but are you a Japanese?” She says, just so she could keep the expert a little longer.

Freen’s brow shoots, “What makes you think that?”

“It’s just, you spoke it so fluently.”

Smirking, Freen says, “Careful, Miss Rebecca. Don’t ask too many questions or I’ll think you’re interested in me,” opening a bottle of water and starts drinking.

“What if I am?”

Freen chokes on it.

Becky placed a hand on the expert’s back, soothing her. She swears she felt how Freen stiffened with their sudden contact. Coughing for her dear life, a blush slowly creeps on her ears as her eyes widen in shock. Opening her mouth as if forcing herself to speak through her coughs. However, they were interrupted when Nico bursts into the room, “Babe, you’re here!” She says, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why are they calling you Freen?”

Pinching her nose, Freen says, “Nico, please stop. I’m not your babe or baby, or anything else. Nothing happened between us.” Sighing, Freen continued. “We just talked and flirted a little. Then you got so drunk, so I took you home. You vomited on your clothes and on my hoodie, so I had to change you. Then I went home.

“I won’t do anything to anyone so intoxicated, come on. I’m not that low nor desperate. Please stop clinging to me. I’m just so tired.” Sighing once more, she looked at Becky then back at Nico, then proceeds to stand, gather her things and storms out of the room, muttering about straight experiments and actresses. She closed the door behind her, leaving Becky and Nico stare daggers at each other.

Chapter Text

Days passed as Becky tries to still get to know the aloof expert even more. It intrigued her how easily she changed. One time, she was driving for her, buying her fast food takeouts while they jam to Hamilton, the other, cold as the polars.

It frustrated her how she seems to easily ignore the actress, no matter how much she tries to make Freen notice her. So, she just stopped. No, not because she was giving up, she was far in too deep for that.

But maybe because she did not want to be so desperate to seek the attention of someone so cold and seemingly uninterested. Maybe, it was just pity after all. Maybe, Freen just felt sorry for her, that’s why she did what she did back when she broke it off with Janus. So, Becky held herself back.

She was pulled out of her self-pity when her phone buzzed with messages from Blaine, who is on her day off, letting her know some schedule changes this week and… Janus, the persistent douchebag.

He had been bombarding her with messages and calls, nonstop since that incident, asking for a chance to explain, for another chance with her. Had it not been for work, she would’ve blocked his ass long time ago.

Sighing to herself, she readies for another workday with the film crew, dawning a simple white tank top and a cream high-waisted shorts, she pulls her long-sleeve satin polo and a cap. Simple enough, lowkey enough to blend.

Out of habit, she buys a matcha latte for her and a hazelnut cold brew for the expert. When she arrived at the location, she sees Freen on her laptop, her brows furrowed, hands flying on her keyboard so fast it blurs. With her headphones on, seemingly talking to her team regarding an urgent business. She quietly put down the coffee she bought for her and made her way to her chair with Mosby waiting.

Becky breezes through her scenes easily since she’s been studying them nonstop. She was on her break when she feels a gentle poking on her arm. Her breath stills when she sees Freen, holding the now-cold cup of coffee she gave her earlier.

“Thank you for this, Rebecca,” Freen says. “You have no idea how I needed it this morning. You didn’t have to, though. But still, I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

With a nod, Freen walked back towards the crew, occasionally talking to the cast for advice.

Becky, in a bold move, approached Freen and threw caution to the wind.

“Go on a date with me,” she boldly demanded.

Freen stilled mid-explanation, clutching a script. Everyone around them stopped moving, listening to what Becky just said.

Her gaze didn’t meet Becky. She instead looked at the man beside her—Saint, one of her co-stars, as she nudges his side, likely to gesture him to respond.

“I don’t think she’s talking to me, Freen.” Saint says as he excuses himself to give them privacy.

“Were you talking to me?” Freen says, her brow furrowed.

“Yes, I am. Go out with me,” she boldly demanded.

Freen’s brows shot up, head tilted in puzzlement. “With all the handsome and beautiful people here, you chose me for that?” she let out a sound, almost a chuckle. “Don’t mess with me, Rebecca. I am not an experiment for you guys to just toy with.”

“I am not toying with you, Freen.” Becky says. “I just really want to get to know you. Just one date. If you didn’t like it, I’ll leave you alone. But if you do, give me your number.”

Smirking, so sure of herself, “Alright, deal.”

Wednesday rolls around, both has their day off. Freen picks Becky up and begun their journey.

“So, what do you have in mind,” Freen says, her fingers tapping to the melody of the song Becky played.

“Let’s go here,” Becky says as she types an address on the car’s GPS.

Soon, they reached an old, batting cage. It is evident with how wide Freen’s smile was that she was going to lose this… date. She tries to hide it from Becky, though. She didn’t want to lose just yet.

She tried so hard not to excitedly enter the cage, with Becky entering the cage beside her.

“Whoever gets the most hits and homeruns buys snacks,” Becky says, confidently. She played baseball with her brother, Richie and her dad so often when she was young. She was sure she was going to win.

How wrong she was. Freen not only had 4 homeruns and 12 hits, but she also hit balls at 100mph. Meanwhile, Becky only managed to scrape 6 hits at 80mph with 0 homeruns.

Panting, Becky asks, “Why are you so good at this? It’s unfair!”

Freen shrugged, “Well, considering I was the baseball captain during high school, I could say I was a little rusty on the side. So, where will you buy some snacks?” She asks Becky smugly.

They drove into a burger joint just on the outskirts of Bangkok. As they sat down the booth, Freen says, “Is this all? Is this your grand scheme? Bring me into a cage and feed me burgers after?”

“Oh, no, no. Not yet, I’m afraid. There are…” she paused, as if to mentally count the stops to their first date. “three more places to go for today.”

Stuffed with their sumptuous hickory bacon mushroom burgers and fries, they drove to another place near the joint, this time, a bowling alley.

“Alright, whoever lose has to pay for lunch,” Becky said. “Get ready to be crushed, Sarocha.” Becky says confidently.

Becky was the one crushed. It was weird, Becky had practiced sports throughout her childhood. Her dad supported her on everything she wanted to try to. But for some reason, Freen the “Never Touched a Bowling Ball” Sarocha had a beginner’s luck.

Since she’s a lefty and her form is not ideal, Freen lets the ball go with such slow speed, her fingers catching one of the holes seconds before she lets go, making the ball spin. She continues to do that on the same place, then BAM—strikes upon strikes. Becky could only watch devastated.

Freen laughs with how downcast Becky looked. She offered to pay for the meal but was declined. “It was a fair game. I got this,” Becky insisted.

They were on a restaurant in Ayutthaya, eating river prawns, overlooking the river. Patrons come and go, occasionally asking Becky to take pictures with them. The ever so bubbly girl didn’t refuse anyone who asked and smiled through the camera with them.

Unbeknownst to her, Freen just marvels at her beauty. She cannot help but to swoon every time she shows her whisker dimples and the deep ones on her cheeks. Gawking at Becky, she didn’t notice that a hazel pair already looked back at her.

“Close your mouth, Freen.” Becky teased, “or flies might go in.”

Shaking off her daze, she shifted her focus towards peeling the prawns, as if it is the most important thing to do after getting caught.

She puts some of the peeled prawns on Becky’s plate as she pops one on her mouth, seemingly enjoying the view, looking anywhere else but Becky.

They drive for their third location after that… incredible lunch. Freen is not at all embarrassed getting caught and her ears did not turn into tomatoes.

Their next stop was archery. Becky had always wanted to try archery, but she never had the chance to practice it. She only wished to win this match with Freen, just to save face. She was going 0 for 2 and that needs to change.

They purchased 120 arrows each and asked one of the crews to keep score for them. The loser gets to pay for their afternoon drinks. Although Becky doesn’t have any problem with paying, since she was the one who asked for, anyway. She just thought it will be fun for Freen to wager for their meals.

Arrows upon arrows fly onto the target. Freen was left-handed so they were facing each other while they aim. Freen tries her hardest to focus on the target but occasionally gets distracted by how Becky furrows her brows in concentration as she takes aim of her target. Sighing helplessly, she forgets that she was aiming for the target and accidentally let an arrow loose.

Thankfully, no one was hurt.

Unfortunately, there’s now an arrow on their ceiling.

“104 to 79, in favor of Miss Armstrong,” the crew said.

“Did the arrow on the ceiling earn a negative point?” Becky said while laughing.

“You’re so smug, are you?” Freen huffs, feigning an irate. “I just let you win because you’re drawing blank on your games so far.”

“Yeah, yeah, yap all you want. At least I didn’t try and kill the ceiling.” Becky said in amusement.

They were on a milk tea shop near their last stop, enjoying fries with it. Becky couldn’t seem to stop talking at the arrow fiasco and still rubs her win against Freen.

“So, where to next?” Freen asks, as she sips from her cup, chewing the boba that came with it.

“Tennis.” Becky said, smugly.

--

Freen was reduced to a huffing mess. Becky easily returns her swipes and enjoying how she makes Freen run across the court by expertly controlling where the ball would go. Occasionally, she even gives the ball a spin, falsely leading Freen to one side, only to change directions and land on the other.

Frustrated, Freen tries to focus hard on the game. The score is now 10-0, in favor of Becky. Five more points and she will officially be scoreless into this game. With a few service aces and overheads, Becky wins easily.

Smugly, Becky approached her, with towel draped around her neck. Wiping the sweat and the frustrations from her head, she takes the water that Becky offered.

“You were a player, weren’t you, Rebecca?” Freen huffs, half frustrated, half tired.

Becky smirked as she nods her head yes. “I was a player and a regional champion back when we were in Australia.”

“That’s unfair! I want a rematch!”

Becky tugs her brow, with hardly any sweat on her forehead, “Are you sure?” She asks, tilting her head in amusement.

Her words dawning on her, Freen swallows her dried up saliva, her heart still hammering from all the running she did, “On second thought, I’m good.”

“So, it’s 15-love.” Becky says, her voice dripping with honey and smugness.

“What did you say?” Freen says, certain that hear heart was beating fast for an entirely different reason now.

“The score,” Becky says, “It’s 15-love.”

“Rebecca, are you calling me ‘love’?”

Becky knows this would happen. Becky expects her reaction to be like this. And yet, she still laughed so hard at the look on Freen’s face, all flustered and flushed.

“No, I’m not,” Becky says in between the laugh. “Love is the tennis term for 0.” Becky breaks into a grin and leans her face towards a tomato Freen. “You know, their origin points.” Becky says, teasing the expert more.

--

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” Freen says as they click their seatbelts on, car backing out of the lot.

“Hm, I’d be good anywhere. I’m alright with mild flavors, though. Nothing too spicy for me.”

“Aw. I had a good place in mind that makes a mean Pad Krapow Gai but alright. We’ll go somewhere else. Near your place, perhaps?”

As they drive through the city, they talked about anything and everything. They naturally let the conversation flow as if they’ve been doing it for a long time now. Becky has learned that Freen was only able to be the consultant of the film as a favor for Nam when she randomly met her on a bar and told her about her work.

“So, what do you do for a living,” Becky asked, intrigued. They are now seated at a booth on a restaurant near Becky’s apartment.

“Oh, just some odd jobs here and there. I am currently handling some coding and data analytics for a company here in Thailand and in Japan. I do freelance work on the side too.” Freen said, while mixing her Som Tum. “How about you, what do you do for a living?” Freen says, with a hint of mischief on her tone.

“Oh, you know, I pretend to be some expert at Math and encryption when I don’t even know what a number theory is.” Putting an emphasis on the mathematical anecdote, as if it personally offended her.

Laughing, they continued with their conversation throughout the meal. It was until Freen asked for the bill when Becky furrowed her brows.

“Let me get this, Freen. I was the one who asked you out on a date.”

“No, please. Let me. I was the one lost, remember? Plus, I had a great time with you today.” Freen said with a smile.

After paying the tab and tipping generously, she went back to their table and took out her hand for Becky, “Well, shall we?”

Settling down for the short ride, Becky held out her phone, “Give me your number.”

“Wow, Rebecca. Subtleties are not your strong suit, huh” Freen says, her eyes fixed on the phone.

“Just give me it!”

Freen then proceeded to punch her number on the phone. Becky pressed the call button and her phone rang.

Shrugging, Becky says, “Just making sure you gave me the right one.”

Chuckling, “Why would I give you a fake number? And why did you need my number anyway?” Gasping, “Are you going to flirt with me, Rebecca?” Freen says, teasingly.

“Silly! We had a bet, remember? If you enjoyed the date, I get to have your phone number.” Smirking, Becky continued, “And yeah, flirt with you and maybe get a second date? It might have escaped to you that it was all I did the entire day.” Becky says teasingly.

Freen gulped at her brashness and cleared her throat. “Alright, let’s go.”

Days passed and the flirting between the two continued. On the days that Freen is on the set, Becky would make sure to order one matcha latte for her and one hazelnut cold brew for Freen. In between takes, they would also talk like their conversation never ended, except for the occasional questions from cast members with their scripts and terminologies.

On the other hand, when it was Becky’s rest day, Freen makes sure to set a meetup place on a secluded co-working café that’s tucked away in between a grocery store and a book shop. Since Freen has pretty much her time on her hand, she schedules her hybrid work from home setup on the days that Becky is free and only returns to office on the days that Becky’s schedule is packed. They’d work together silently, with Becky occasionally asking Freen questions about the script and Freen’s meeting with her team.

One day, while they’re both enjoying the sound of keys being pressed by Freen as she codes, Becky just marvels at the speed of which Freen’s fingers were practically still on one place while typing simultaneously, working each and individual fingers to maximum.

When her brows furrow and her head tilted towards the ceiling as if to think on what to code, her fingers rest on the mid-section of her laptop’s keyboard. That was when Becky realized how slender her fingers are.  She wonders what other things Freen’s hands can do except coding…

It was evident that Becky’s feelings are growing at a rapid pace. She has not felt this for anyone. The closest she had was with Janus, her feelings developed with a span of two years before he showed his colors. And yet, somehow, the expert managed to make her fall for her deeper in just a week and few days that they’ve been talking.

It even amazed her how easily she let Janus go. With what she was feeling towards Freen, it made her realize how dull and weak her feelings were for Janus. With Freen, conversations flow naturally, even beautifully poetic at times, despite her mathematical shenanigans.

But with Janus, everything felt forced. It was like she required herself to settle just so she could have someone. And who else suits better, right? Who else made sense?

But that was before Freen stormed in, with her messy bun and nerdy hoodies that screams Hufflepuff. And she could only hope that the expert feels the same way.

As they were wrapping the set, both girls are preparing to leave when Becky remembers the dinner with her Uncle Fred. It was Friday and the dinner is fast approaching. With the whirlwind of a week she had, she forgot to let Fred know that Janus will definitely not go with her this Sunday. She put a mental note to call her uncle once again for the update.

Chapter Text

They’re on their way to Freen’s car for their usual dinner when Freen turned, “Uhm, Rebecca, do you have time tonight?” playing with her hand as she nervously asks the actress, “I’d like to take you somewhere on a date. Not that far but it’ll take time to get there, and I wanted to make sure that I won’t burden you with anything.” A pause. “If you don’t, we could just go around the corner. I know a joint that serves a mean Pad Thai.” She said so fast that Becky thought she was rapping.

A blush creeping through her cheeks and a giggle, “No, no. I got time. This is the only itinerary I had for the day anyway. I’m free the rest of the night. And please, it’s been so long since we’ve started talking, just call me Becky,” she says, two dimples on her left cheek appeared with her smile. ‘Or you can call me yours, too.’

Freen took a moment to think, “Hm, can I call you Becbec, instead?”

“Well, no one has called me that before”, she chuckled at the cute nickname. “Sure,” she said, grinning up to her, showing her whisker dimples and a deep one on her cheeks.

Then, to her surprise, Freen smiled so wide that a cute little dimple appeared on her right cheek with her gummy smile. She beamed at the actress, opening her passenger seat, “Really? Alright, let’s go!”

Becky slides through the seat and asks, “Music?”

“Sure,” Freen presses play on her console, then the music boomed throughout the car.

“THE INTERNET IS FOR PORN; THE INTERNET IS FOR PORN. GRAB YOUR DICK AND DOUBLE CLICK FOR—” frozen and horrified, she fumbles to press the stop button again.

“OH MY GOD I NEED TO START CHECKING WHAT WAS PLAYED LAST BEFORE ACTUALLY PRESSING PLAY AGAIN,” she shouted panicky. “I swear I’m not a pervert! It’s from Avenue Q. It’s—it’s… Please believe me that I don’t—”

Becky was rolling on her seat now, laughing so hard she might have peed a little. “You know, they say your music taste says a lot about you,” she teased through the laugh.

“Becbec! I don’t—”

Still laughing. “I knooow! I’m only joking!” she said breathlessly.

Freen sighs through her crimson ears. Freen mumbles something incoherent that Becky needed to try and stop laughing to hear, “What?” She asks the expert.

“I said,” she leans towards Becky, face inches from hers. She can feel her breath and smell of her cologne that reminds Becky of applewood and pine trees. She thought Freen was going to kiss her to stop her from laughing but then she heard a click of her seatbelt. “Seatbelt,” Freen continued. Becky didn’t know if she’d feel disappointed or relieved. Either way, she couldn’t hide her shy as her reddening cheeks flush.

“What’s Avenue Q anyway? Why do they sing about internet and porn?” Becky asks, trying her hardest to act aloof like her heart wasn’t racing at 200mph.

“Oh, it’s like Sesame Street.”

She blinked. “Pardon?” Her British accent evident with her confusion.

Freen laughs. “It’s like Sesame Street on crack. The cast are puppets.”

Becky turns her head in confusion, her brows furrowing. “That is so weird.”

“Well, yeah. And they beat Wicked as Musical of the Year, so…” Freen shrugged proudly.

Becky connected her phone to Freen’s car, and they started driving, Taylor Swift blasting through the speakers. They drove for an hour and arrived at a secluded open bar. It was like someone put a patio bar in the middle of the forest and set two separate bonfires, one big in the middle, and smaller one on the corner. It was quiet with just a couple snuggling at the huge fire and two people at the bar. Freen asked Becky to find somewhere she wanted to sit while she orders for them.

Becky chose to sit at the small bonfire while Freen walks towards her, a tray of marshmallows, crackers and two mugs of hot cocoa carefully balanced on her hands. “Would you like something heavier? I’ll order some steak and ask for a grill to sear it on the fire.”

Shaking her head, “No, actually. I’m a little full from the food buffet on the set. Fans are really generous to sponsor such things,” she said gratefully.

Piercing the huge marshmallows with the sticks, Freen nods and gave one to Becky which Becky held against the fire. “Would you like some marshmallows with your hot cocoa, too?” Freen asks.

Becky nodded.

Freen went to put some of the smaller marshmallows onto her steaming cup and handed it to Becky, sitting down beside her. “Alright, I know you have your questions.” Freen started as Becky furrowed her brows. “Don’t look at me like that! I know you’ve been itching to ask me about Nico. But to make it interesting, do you want to play a more free-spirited 36 Questions with me?”

“What’s that?”

“We ask each other 36 questions in turn. We must answer it truthfully and we must not judge each other for it. We don’t repeat the questions. And we cannot tell it to other people either.” She shrugged.

“They say if you finish the game, you’ll end up falling in love with the person you did it with.” Freen smirked. “Maybe I could get you to fall in love with me, hm?”

Shaking her head, ‘You don’t need that anymore, Freen’, Becky giggled at the thought, “Alright, deal. I’ll go first. Why does Nico call you Rain?”

“Right into it, huh?” Freen said with a smile. A pause, then, staring into the fire, Freen continued, “I don’t usually let strangers know my real name. I met her at a bar and gave her a fake name. I thought we won’t meet again after the night, so I was shocked when she showed up on the set.”

A nod, “But what was she—”

“Ah! My turn!” interrupted Freen. “If you change one thing in your life right now, what will it be?”

“Hm, I guess I wanted to be closer to my mom. We kind of drifted apart since my dad died 5 years ago and she changed after that. She got more angry, more bitter at the world and I wasn’t able to take it.

“She became overbearing and too involved especially with my career. So as soon as I had the money, I got my own place and moved out.” Becky says, her tone serious. “That doesn’t mean she stopped trying to control my career, though. But I am grateful that I don’t get to come home to her every night.”

“I see.” Freen nodded “I guess your mom is still grieving for your father. You see, we expect our parents to make no mistakes. But we have to remind ourselves that they, too, are humans.

“They are not perfect. But I’m glad you escaped something so draining. It wouldn’t have been good for you to stay with someone who suffocates you in every move that you make.” They were silent for a while, their gaze still at the dancing flames.

“I guess I should have been there for her more, understood her more, instead of just shoving off her toxic opinions with my toxic actions. We were all grieving differently. But we should’ve not let it separate us. I should have asked myself why she was so invested in my career to the point that every move I make, she gets to control.”

“I can’t speak for her, Becbec, but if I may, it might be because she’s worried that by the time she dies, no one will take care of you anymore. So, she wants you to be as successful as you are now, to reach your full potential, so that if the time comes, she can rest. But that doesn't mean she gets to treat you like a puppet. That doesn't mean she gets to take away your sense of identity and individuality. That’s not how it works.

“But let me ask you questions about this. How many more days do you have to punish her for grieving from your father? How many days she will have to endure to get some semblance of what it was before your dad died? How many more days you both have to wish that it was all good and happy like it was, before you do what you always have to do from the very beginning?”

Becky looked at her imploringly, asking the question no need to say out loud. “To sit down and talk.” Freen says with finality.

They went silent again, just watching the flame dancing, “Your turn,” Freen finally says.

To lighten the atmosphere, Becky chose to ask one of her questions about Nico. “What was Nico going to ask you that night after the trailer shooting? You know, before you interrupted her with an answer and closed the door. And you can’t lie! Those are the rules!”

Freen stared at the fire intently, as she started, “She was asking if you were the person I talked about the whole night that we were together.”

“Oh? You talked about me? What did you talk about?” Becky asked, teasingly, as if her heart didn’t just do summersaults with what Freen said. She talked about her, with a girl that’s practically throwing herself at her.

“Hey! Don’t get greedy! It’s my turn now, yeah?”

Chuckling, Becky says, “Alright, alright! Go shoot.”

“What House are you in?”

“Oh! I was actually surprised at the start,” she said, enthusiastically. “I thought I’d be like, okay, a Hufflepuff,” she chuckles at that while looking at Freen, “or Gryffindor. But then, when I did the quiz and everything, it was actually Slytherin!”

“Oh thank God.” Freen let out a long sigh, as if she was holding her breath while Becky answers, “I was so scared that you’ll say Chanel!” she laughs, her eyes disappearing while she clutches her stomach, which earned a protest from Becky.

“Hey! Not fair! I loved the films! Especially the books. Come on, now. You have to give me some credit!” They laugh again.

Once their laugher died down, Freen says, “I can see that. You are passionate about everything you put your mind into. You are very cunning, and ambitious, not to the extent that you’ll do something bad about it like what the stereotype dictates, but you are ambitious because you work hard and focus hard to achieve your goals.” Freen says, puffing her chest proudly. “And you make one hell of a Slytherin, Becbec.”

“Thank you,” Becky says, grateful for the dim lights as to not reveal how flushed she looked. “My turn! How many languages do you speak? I was a little curious since you speak Japanese every time you’re in a meeting.”

Brows furrowed, Freen asked, “Do I include Binary and Programming Languages, too?”

“What.” Becky deadpanned.

“Programming languages. There’s Python, R, Java, Cob—”

Becky covers her mouth, “Shh! You’re giving me migraine! Of course, normal human language!”

Chuckling, Freen gazed at the sky, the silhouette of bare and tall pines did little to obscure the view of the stars above. “Hm, let’s see. Seven, I think? There’s Thai, English, Japanese, and… hm… 4 Filipino languages”

“You mean dialects?”

“No, languages.” Freen chuckles, “Filipino is the group of languages that are spoken throughout the Philippines. There are some dialects, too, depending on the region…”

Freen goes on while Becky just listened to her tentatively as if she could just listen to her the entire night. Then, Freen paused. “Do you really want to listen to me ramble about the difference of dialects and languages?”

“Of course, yes! Anything you find interesting is fascinating for me, Freen.”

A blush. She clears her throat then Freen continued, “As I said, there are lots of Filipino languages and dialects.” She paused, biting her lip absentmindedly, thinking how to explain it better. “Oh! I know! Like English. English is a language, right?”

Becky nods, smiling.

“So, English has many dialects, too. There is American English, British English, not sure but… Irish English...? Like the southern and northern Thai dialects, too, Pak Tai and Lanna.” Freen enthusiastically said, her brown eyes disappear behind her smile. “With languages, you won’t understand dialects when you don’t know the language. But with dialects, if you speak the language, you can understand it even if you’re on the different region.”

When Freen notices the actress was silent, she looks at her and sees a pair of hazels already staring back at her. She got momentarily lost, lump forming on her throat. When she tore her gaze away from Becky, she asked, “Wow, that was a ramble, huh? Are you okay—”

“Can I kiss you?” Becky interrupted.

Freen could barely hear the noise of the forest through the loudness of her heart. She nods and Becky leaned in for a soft, feathery kiss. She lingered there, their lips barely touching, but definitely there. As Becky settles back to her seat, she says, “Your turn.”

Clearing her throat once more, Freen asked, “Why did you kiss me?”

“You just looked so passionate about random things that I never thought there could be anyone else who looked so beautiful.” Becky says shrugging. “Are you a Filipino?”

Freen nods, “My mom is a Filipino while my dad is Thai. They were separated when I was a baby. Dad was supposed to go back with us in the Philippines few months after I was born but he never did.” Freen says. “After three years, my mom left me with my Nanang, my grandma and returned here to look for my dad. Well, I don’t think she had a plan to come back since she didn’t return even when Nanang died.” She said, tearing up.

“She couldn’t even get home to see her mother one last time. It devastated me. I had to keep myself together and arrange her funeral alone. I didn’t have the luxury to break down because I had to bury the very person who made me who I am.

“I was alone and had no one but my friends to lean on. I didn’t even know if she actually met my dad or she just didn’t care enough about me. That’s probably why I’m a fucked up little shit,” she said, jokingly, a futile attempt to make the atmosphere lighter.

But Becky sensed that there was more to it than a joke. “I’m so sorry to hear that. But I want to make it clear to you, baby.” She proceeds to hold Freen’s cheeks, cupping it so that she looks her in the eyes. Freen was visibly swallowing the forming lump on her throat from the endearment.

“A broken family doesn’t mean a broken child. Your Nanang raised you to be the splendid person you are. I’m sorry that you had to be so independent at a young age. Please, please never underestimate yourself. You’re strong, probably one of the strongest people I know. Please don’t define yourself as that because you are far more than your broken family,” Becky continued.

A tear finally spilled down Freen’s cheeks as she closed her eyes, letting Becky’s words heal a part of her that she never knew needed healing.

They continued the game well into the night, with Freen constantly giving Becky supplies of her smores. Knowing each other deeply, more intimately until they were the only ones left in the bar, with their bonfire almost burning to cinders. Then, Freen then stood up and held her hand for Becky. Becky took it and pouted, “Are we going home?”

“No, I just want to show you one more thing. Trust me?”

“Always.” Becky said, earning a smile from Freen with the Harry Potter reference.

Both walked for a while as Freen led them into a clearing, with a railing terrace over a ravine. Millions of stars illuminated the sky that they would never be able to see within the city. A telescope was setup in the middle of it with a tent, blankets and few candles luminating the otherwise pitch-black forest.

“I rented this camping site for the whole night.” Freen said. “I know how much you valued your privacy. So, I did what I can to preserve that.”

Motioning on the telescope, they went nearer. “Tonight is the Jupiter, Mars and Venus conjunction. See those three bright stars there?” She points at the three stars west. “That’s it.” She brings down her eyes, closing the other as she fiddles with the telescope, focusing and directing it to the planets. “Here, come look.”

Becky leans into the scope, seeing the swirls of Jupiter, the angry red dot called Venus and the brown, barren deserts of Mars. It was breathtaking. Ethereal. Celestial.

Higher and higher you go,

Carrying the spotlight with just your glow.

Higher and higher you soar,

A sight to behold but never reachable.

For you are the sun, the center of the universe,

The very reason why planets don’t orbit in reverse

And if being near you means I have to burn,

Then I’ll gladly smolder in return.

“See, stars are always spectacular. They are always there, shining, soaring with the moon. But they’re never quite reachable.” Freen says quietly. “No matter how high you jump, how tall you climb, it will just be there, mocking you as you try to grasp them, almost there, they always say, almost there but not quite.” Becky removes her eyes on the telescope and sees Freen standing in the middle of it all, staring at her.

Of all the stars she saw tonight, Becky was certain nothing was able to beat how stunningly beautiful Freen is. No stars in the sky made her heartbeat so fast that it was threatening to climb out of her throat. No stars in the sky made her feel like she was being lifted into the sky in a whirlwind of emotions that just makes her float.

A song plays softly in the background as Freen holds out her hand once again. “May I have this dance, my queen?”

“Starry, starry night

Paint your palette blue and gray

Look out on a summer’s day

With the eyes that know the darkness in my soul”

They dance to the melody, a million galaxies as their witness. As Freen cradles Becky into her arms, she leans for a kiss. Soft kisses, innocent kisses that conveyed the depth of their developing feelings towards each other.

“What you tried to say to me,

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free”

Silently conversing, their hearts hammering with the same rhythm as they break their kiss and leans their forehead with each other. Freen, still holding Becky’s waist while Becky cradles Freen’s nape.    

“Portraits hung in empty halls

Frameless heads on nameless walls

With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget”

“Whenever I look at you, I just know that you were written by the deities with a smile on their face, Becbec.” Freen whispers. “I am but a line, and you are the star I always yearn to reach but never quite take.”

“So, take me.”

Chapter Text

 “If you get remotely uncomfortable with this, please tell me to stop.” Her hand reaching for Becky’s cheek. “We will stop at all costs, no hard feelings, no questions asked, hm?” Freen says.

Another nod. Then, she proceeds to unzip Becky’s shorts.

She leaned back and hooked her fingers on both Becky’s shorts and underwear. She then tucks it carefully on the side, same thing as she did with her upper garments. She didn’t comment on how wet it was as to not embarrass the actress and make her uncomfortable.

 Teasingly, Freen extends her index finger to lightly touch her core, Becky bites her lip making her taste blood.

"For the road," Freen says, smirking. 

Their eyes met, silently conversing with each other. Pulling out, Becky inhaled sharply when she saw Freen lick her hand clean and came down to kiss her, tasting herself in the process.

Chapter Text

Becky shifted from her sleep, her hand searching for the warmth of Freen. She was sore all over, not because she was laying on a tent, no, the duvet was perfectly soft not to cause her any discomfort. It was because… her eyes flew open.

Oh God. Did they… did she… oh God they did!

She bolted straight up, which was a mistake since she suddenly felt a stinging pain on her center. Disoriented, she found herself fully clothed and feeling clean.

Wait, was that a dream? Was she just dreaming when it happened? Then why is she all sore, especially down there?

She zipped up the tent, taking the blanket with her as the cold morning breeze rushed through her. She was immediately greeted by Freen, pouring a foamy matcha onto a steaming mug using a bamboo whisk and ceremonial bowl.

Her coffee lying beside her, steam still rising from the cup, Freen notices her, then smiles, “Hello, my queen. Good morning.”

Still disoriented, Becky managed to mumble, “Morning,”

“You’re just in time. I made you a matcha latte,” Freen offering her the cup with a smile.

Becky silently took the cup and looks into it like it was the most interesting thing that happened. “Uhm… Freen?” she said, with a voice so small that it almost turned into a whisper.

“Hm?”

“Where were you…” she asks, not daring to look at Freen as her blush slowly creeps in.

Freen chuckles, low and husky, as she takes Becky’s arm. “I’m sorry that you didn’t find me with you when you woke up. I just wanted to prepare your drink so that it’ll be ready when you are.”

“Come here.” Freen tugs her hand, ushering her into the direction of the chairs. Returning her gaze at her feet, she quietly follows Freen and sat down.

“Becbec?”

“Hm?” she said, still looking at her drink.

“Please look at me?”

With all the effort not to combust from her gaze, she looks up on a smiling Freen, cradling her coffee. She motions her head towards the horizon.

“

Hues of the mountains surface

As the sky lightens its shades

With a steaming brew at hand

One thing comes to mind

The dawn breaks

As words rush out of my brain

In the early morning sunrise,

My thoughts of you still remain.

”                                 

Becky turned her gaze towards the ravine. Her breath was caught at the majestic view in front of them. What was once dark, twinkling sky was replaced by hues of blues, violets and yellows as the sun peeks through the clouds. Fogs hiding the valley below, with only the peaks of the mountains slipping through the morning mist, giving the mountains an ethereal view.

“See, when you start looking up, you’ll find the most beautiful scenes yet to unfold. You wouldn’t want to miss it just by looking down.”

“Mesmerizing,” Becky mumbles in amazement, her heart full with everything that has happened. In the short time that she met the expert, everything seems to be easy with her. She even talked about her mom that even Blaine can’t pry out of her. It was a whirlwind of emotions, of wonderful pictures and spectacular conversations.

“Yeah, breathtaking,” Freen exhales, as she looked at Becky, her snow-skinned face reflecting the orange hues, making her brown eyes more intense and hypnotizing.

After thoroughly admiring the view, Freen asks, “Do you want to talk about last night?” while sipping her coffee.

Becky nods, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

“Do you regret it?” was the first question Freen blurted out, her voice cracking as she tries to act as if the question didn’t crush her. Her hands betray her as the coffee nestled between her hands starts to ripple.

Becky reached out, her hands finding Freen’s cheek, drawing circles with her thumb as she tries to calm her down. “No, baby. Why would I? It was one of the best nights of my life.”

It’s true. It was one of the best nights of her life. She was so overwhelmed with how thoughtful Freen was throughout their date. With campfires, smores, and stargazing? The simplicity of it, how she let Becky see nature, to appreciate it even more. It tops everything, even the fanciest dates she had with her rich suitors.

At the end of the night, when Freen looked at her like she was one with the stars, like she is someone so precious, so valuable, and she just melted. When they danced to a song so beautifully appropriate and how she held her through the dance, so right, so true, like pieces of lost puzzle finally finding each other after.

And the sex? Oh my God, the sex! She never felt so safe with anyone. She always lets her guard up, keeping a façade that screams elegance and grace. But with Freen, she can be vulnerable, raw, unencrypted. With how delicate Freen was with every movement, like she is someone who deserves to be treated so kindly, and so, so valued.

Freen finally looked at her and was taken aback when she saw tears pooling in her eyes. “Then why didn’t you look at me until now?”

“It’s because…” she trails off, mumbling the rest into the wind.

“Hm? Tell me?”

“…”

“Becbec?”

“It’s because I was sulking. You left me inside the tent, all alone and no one to cuddle with,” she said, pouting. “I was expecting it with my morning kisses, especially after feeling how sore I was when I woke up from last night.”

Freen chokes on her drink, coffee spilling out of her nose.

Becky rose from her seat. Still sore, she winced from the sudden movement, but she still worriedly pats Freen’s back as to soothe her. “Are you okay?”

Her cough subsiding, she puts her coffee down and pulls Becky on her lap, her head tilted up to meet Becky’s eyes.

“Did I hurt you, my queen? I’m so sorry,” she said, her hand reaching to cup Becky’s cheek.

She shakes her head no, turned around and sat down on Freen’s lap, facing the majestic view in front of them. “I was just a little sore, teerak. But I’m okay.”

“I never want to be someone who makes you uncomfortable or cause you pain in any way, my queen. Please, please tell me when I do so and I will make it up to you as much as I can, hm?”

Freen draws the blanket close, covering them both as they stare at the morning sun and the misty mountains in front of them. Becky felt her warm breath as she rests her nose at the crook of Becky’s neck, tracing kisses on it.

“Please tell me this is not a dream. Please tell me I won’t wake up from this soon,” Freen whispers.

Becky reached out to her, leaning into the touches. Tilting her head back towards Freen, they share a long, chaste kiss, wishing all Freen’s doubts and fears would disappear with it. “You won’t, baby. I’m here. This is real. I’m already yours,” she said, gently smiling while her hand draws circles on Freen’s cheek.

With that, Becky shifted her seat, now straddling Freen, deepening their kiss.

It was when Becky’s stomach started complaining that they were pulled out of their reverie. Chuckling, Freen lifted her as if she weighed nothing, turned around and placed her back on the chair.

Kissing her forehead, “Wait for me here, hm? I’ll go get us some food.”

Becky was on the verge of nodding off to sleep again, her chin propped on her palm when Freen returned with two steaming cups of instant noodles.

“I’m sorry, this was all I packed. I didn’t really… plan for us to stay the night.”

“Mmhmm, sure. And yet, you somehow managed to bring a matcha ceremonial set and a pour-over,” Becky teased smugly.

“Hey! Those are essentials! They never leave my car!” Freen protested

Shaking her head chuckling, “I’m just messing with you. It’s okay. I like cup noodles.”

Freen glared at her. “Alright, which one do you want?”

“That one,” Becky says while pointing at the cup with beef flavor.

With a smile, Freen set down the cup in front of her.

They were silent for a while, admiring the slowly dispersing fog down the valley.

“You know, I almost thought only I dreamt of what happened last night,” Becky breaks the silence.

Freen’s brow shoots up, “What do you mean? Do you dream about us having sex?” she teased.

Blushing, “Silly! No!” Then, she turned. “At least, not anymore,” Becky says smirking, easily shifting their teasing game to her advantage. “Why would I still dream it when it’s so much better to do it with you while awake?”

Now, it’s Freen’s turn to blush, her ears almost turning tomatoes. “Bec!”

Laughing, she answers the question, “Alright, alright!” She giggles, “Well, when I woke up, I was expecting to wake up cuddling with you,” she gave the expert a sharp look.

Hearing Freen mumble ‘sorry’ under her breath, she continues, “And I was expecting to be cold… and naked.” Blushing a little, “But when I woke up, I was covered with blanket and fully dressed. If I just didn’t feel so sore, I would’ve believed that I just had a very good dream,” she chuckles.

“W-well, after you fell asleep, i-it didn’t feel right with me to just leave you naked out in the open, even if we have a tent with us. I didn’t want you to be cold.” Freen explains.

“So, I cleaned you up and dressed you again. I made sure that you are as comfortable as possible, not only because it’s what you deserve, but because I want you to feel taken care of.”

Her eyes softened with what Freen said. She leans to kiss her and just exhales to it, feeling as if everything is right on track.

“Can I court you?” Freen says as they break their kiss.

Becky tilted her head, “What do you mean?” Chuckling, “I already gave myself to you. I don’t think that’s still necessary.”

“Still, I want to make it right with you. So, please? Can I?”

“Alright,” Becky says giddily. “I don’t know what else to give you, though.”

They laugh with that, easily breezing through their banter. Once the laughter dies down, Freen says, “You don’t have to give me anything. Let me give you everything that I am and everything that I have. Just give me an answer when you feel it the most.”

They spent the rest of the morning packing up, nestling everything in the car, and the telescope on the top carrier.

They made sure that the small fire Freen made to boil water was properly extinguished and took their garbage with them, leaving the place as if it was untouched.

The drive back was filled with a binge-listen to Avenue Q, Becky’s comments didn’t go unnoticed. “I mean, how is being single worse than being jobless? My God, Kate, you thirsty as fuck. Get your priorities straight!”

In no time, they arrived at Becky’s apartment. Freen made sure to open the door for her, holding her hand out to help her get out of the car.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?”

“There is just this dinner with family.”

A nod. “Alright, I’ll see you on Monday?”

Becky reached out to her and gave her a peck. “I’ll see you, suitor,” she said, winking.

As Becky closes the door of her apartment, she was met by silence once more. What was once her safe space now felt like solitude. With everything that has happened the yesterday, she didn’t think the little space she created for herself would feel… so lonely.

Her thoughts, reeling from everything that had happened. The easy conversations, the stars and planet alignments, and the center of it all, Freen.

She had those with Freen, about how Freen made her realize lots of things with conversations so deep it dug into her soul and clung into her, long after she was home.

Conversations linger at the back of her head as she cleans up for, especially the ones with her mom.

‘How many more days do you have to punish her for grieving from your father?’ Freen’s voice echoed on her head. She did not pressure her in any way, in fact, she says it’s okay. It’s okay to feel these feelings, this indifference. But once again, she was plagued with the questions the expert asked.

‘How many more days you both have to wish that it was all good and happy like before you do what you always have to do from the very beginning? To sit down and talk.’

She decided, enough is enough. Reaching from her phone, she dials her mom’s number. After few rings, the line connects.

“Hi, mom,” she greets. “How are you?”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t easy for Becky to reach out to her mom for the first time in years. But opening up to Freen about it felt like a ton of weight was lifted. No, it was not everything, but it was easier enough for Becky to put an effort into finding a common ground of understanding with her mom.

She knows the gravity of what she was doing, of what she was inviting into her life once again. But she was willing to give her mother a chance to build something more stable with her, if she talks to her about how she felt and to establish some clear boundaries about her life. So after so many years, she finally reached out.

“Hi, mom,” she greets. “How are you?”

“So kind of you to call after years of no contact. Finally realized I’m still alive?” Her mother’s tone was sharp and cold. But she can also sense the hurt behind it.

Sighing as if to pray for patience, “Mom, please. I’m actually trying to have a conversation with you.”

A silence.

“Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow before the dinner at Uncle Fred’s?” Becky asked.

“Why?” her mom asked coldly.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about what happened between us, and what’s happening right now. Someone made me realize that after dad died, it all changed, and I don’t like this change, mom. Not anymore.”

Her mom sighs, Becky could almost imagine her mom’s body relax. “Okay,” she said, tone a little warmer than before. “Can you pick me up?”

--

They settle down at a quiet café on the outskirts of the city, near Fred’s. Becky ordered two matcha lattes and a taro crepe cake, the one that they’d always order every weekend after they visit Fred before Robin, her dad, died.

“Do you remember that time when dad asked the waiter’s number because Richie found her attractive?” Becky reminisced.

Her mom, Rawee, chuckled. “Yes! Richie would always perk up and blush every time she gets to deliver our orders here and I think your dad was just too fed up with him that he asked her number for him.”

They laughed at the memory, “I can still hear his voice when he said, ‘Hi, I think my boy likes you based on how red he gets every time you approach. Would you care to give him your number?’” says Becky, her voice octaves lower as to mimic her father’s voice.

After the laugh subsided, they smiled at the memory, but Becky noticed how it left a bitter taste on the mouth.

“I’m glad you finally reached out, princess.” Her mom reached to caress her hand.

She leans with the touch as a gentle smile graces her lips.

“Someone made me realize that I needed to do something to at least repair our relationship, mom.” Becky started, “It made me realize that even though we had different forms of grieving, we should not have let it tear us. And I’m so, sorry, mom, for leaving you when you needed comfort too.”

Her mom’s gaze softened, tears pooling on her eyes, “I know I can be a handful sometimes. And I apologize if I ever made you feel like you are not in control of your own life. I just wanted you to be safe and comfortable even after I’m gone.

“I know that mom. At least, I know now. You were just making sure that I don’t suffer from anything. You were just protecting me. But mom, I am my own person. Please understand that.”

“I do, I really do.” Rawee says, “And I am sorry if it suffocated you. You can’t blame me for looking after you. You are my princess. And I will always protect you.”

“And I appreciate that. But you can’t protect me forever, mom. Sooner or later, I have to stand on my own, and to fall, on my own, too. I just want to know that you will still there for me when I do.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I will still be there. You are our princess. I will try to work hard on myself and on that aspect, too. And I am counting on you to call me out every time I cross the line. I will never do anything that will make you drift away from me again.”

Then, they hugged. A long, lingering one, as if making it the start of a mending relationship that was separated by grief and torment. And Becky was glad that they did – they sat down and talked about it. It wasn’t total healing, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

With that, they spent more time catching up with each other. It was evident that Rawee still keeps tabs on her and Richie, asking her about her movie premier with Janus, and that she’s excited to watch it with her.

They also reminisced about her dad. How heartbroken they were when cardiac arrest took him away from them 5 years ago. How it changed them, not just their relationship with each other, but also their relationship with themselves.

Rawee admitted that she had a hard time adjusting without Robin. He was her pillar, her ‘strong arms’ like the endearment they once had, for he was the one who held the world for them not to be crushed by the harshness of it. And when he was suddenly gone, it was as if that burden crushed her, too.

Rawee couldn’t breathe for months. She couldn’t get past the grieve and it made her paranoid.

‘What will happen to Richie and Becky once I’m gone? I don’t want them to carry this burden. I want them to reach their peak and be as comfortable as possible.’

But she didn’t realize that in doing so, she was crushing them—with expectations of success, with mounting responsibilities of triumph and of victories. It pressured them to the point that they preferred to live alone and isolated than to be with her and the pressure she disguised as comfort.

But now, Becky is reaching out, as if something has shifted, as if she wants to understand her. And she appreciates her for that. For giving her a second chance to be her mom again.

The sun was beginning to bleed into the horizon when they got out of the café, their chest a lot lighter than it was when they arrived.

It was a short drive to Uncle Fred’s. They parked in front of the house and rang the doorbell. They were greeted by Irin, her cousin, with a hug for Becky, and a kiss for Rawee.

They settled down the couch while Rawee went straight to the kitchen to help Auntie Em with dinner.

“So, how have you been?” Irin asked with a knowing look. Smirking, “How’s your expert?”

“Shh Irin! Not here! They might hear!” Becky says.

“Alright, alright! I’ve just been dying to hear from you since you told me she asked you on a date last night” Irin said. “But when I went to your apartment for a sleepover and ask you about it, you weren’t there.”

As if just dawning on her, Irin gasped, “Tell me, did something happen? Did you finally—”

She was interrupted by Becky’s hand covering her mouth shut, “Oh my God, shh! Stop being such a blabbermouth!” A blush slowly crept on her face.

“Oh my God you did!” Irin silently shouted. “You have to tell me all about it!”

“Okay, okay! Just shh!”

“…”

“So?” Irin crossed her arms over her chest, waiting impatiently.

“Right after work, she asked me if I was free for the rest of the day and I said yes. She asked me if I would like to go to dinner with her, but it was quite far. I still agreed.”

“Oh God, girl, you’re so whipped!”

“No, I’m not and oh my God shh!”

Irin covered her mouth, “Sorry!” she whispers.

“So, she took me at this quiet café tucked on a pine forest. It has bonfires and the best hot cocoa,” she continued. “And I swear Irin it was the most peaceful I’ve ever felt. It didn’t even register to me that she literally took me on a secluded forest, but I didn’t feel scared or threatened.”

“I was gonna comment at that! Girl, she took you to a secluded forest! That’s some Ted Bundy shit waiting to happen!”

“Yes, but that’s it, I still felt safe. I felt so calm and serene every time I’m with her. It’s like, I don’t even need to mask myself like that Becky. And… I talked to her about mom.”

With that, Irin’s eyes widened. “Y-You talked…?”

“I know!” She silently exclaimed, “I didn’t even talk to you about her until you forced me to. But with her, it was the easiest thing to do. It flowed naturally. And she gave me advice about it, not in a forceful way, it’s more of a gentle nudge to say, hey, maybe consider your mom too, because you guys didn’t just lose your dad, she lost the love of her life, too and it honestly made me reflect and just…”

“Is that why you were with Aunt Rawee today?”

She nods. “Yes, we talked about it, and I told her I wanted to try fix our relationship.”

“I’m so glad you guys are finally starting to heal.” Irin reached her arm.

“Yeah, me too.”

For a while, silence engulfed them until Irin breaks it. “Then? What else happened? I’m sure that’s not the highlight.”

“She got up and reached for my hand. She led me deeper into the forest.”

“Oh God! See! That’s some Ted Bundy shit right there! If you were not here, alive and whole—well, I say whole—I’d say she killed you already!”

Becky gave her a sharp, exasperated look. “Do you want me to continue or…?”

She was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Thinking it was finally Richie, Becky got up to open the door for him.

But when she opened, someone else was there with a bouquet of roses, looking all charming with his button-up shirt and slacks.

“Hello, Becs. Auntie Rawee invited me over. Can I come in?” Janus smiled charmingly.

God fucking damn it.

Chapter Text

Janus was at the doorway, wearing his usually charming smile. Becky stiffened, her face turned into something cold and indifferent.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Like I said, Aunt Rawee asked me to come. And I’ve missed you, Becs. You haven’t been responding to my messages and—” 

“Janus! Nice to see you again! Come in, come in!” Rawee came walking down the hallway from the kitchen.

“Flowers?” He smiled sheepishly as he extended his arms towards Becky.

Begrudgingly, Becky accepted it with a smile close to grimace.

They walked inside the house, Becky settling back down beside Irin as Janus awkwardly sits on a chair opposite them.

 “Why are you here?” Irin seethes. “Your fucking audacity astounds me. After what you’ve done to Becky?”

“Aunt Rawee invited—”

“Then you should’ve refused.” Becky interjects. Her tone cold, apathetic.

“If only they knew what you did, I doubt that dad could even let you walk out of here alive.” Irin says with a sharp glare towards the guy.

“Becs please give me a chance to exp—"

“Kids!” Fred bursts out of a smoking kitchen. “Hey Janus, man! Didn’t see you there!” Fred reached out and hugged him by his side.

“So, change of plans. Turns out, your old man forgot the turkey on the oven, and it got burnt.” He chuckles as he nervously glances to her wife who angrily walked pass him, stomping her feet towards the stairs to change. “So, anyone up a little trip down Nusara instead?”

After 15 minutes of endless, mutterings from Auntie Em, they gathered outside the house to talk logistics.

“Becs, would you like to ride—”

“Becky! Let’s ride together!” Irin says, clinging to Becky’s arm.

“Irin, honey, don’t you think—” Rawee starts to say but got interrupted.

“Please, auntie? I just want to catch up with my cousin. Please?” Irin says pouting.

“Alright, alright.” Rawee chuckles. “I’ll ride with you and Em, Fred. Janus, see you there?”

Janus nods, sadness evident on his eyes.

“I informed Richie about the location,” Fred says. “He’ll meet us there instead.”

“As you should! You just burned a turkey that I spent half a day to marinate! I swear to God…” Auntie Em said, rest of her words inaudible as she enters their car.

“Yay! Thank you, auntie!” Irin cheers, ignoring her bickering parents. She slides on Becky’s passenger seat, as Becky follows.

They were pulling out of the driveway, barely 5 minutes have passed when Irin immediately ranted.

“How dare he show his fucking face and dine with us!” She hissed. “That goddamn sorry excuse of a man! You should’ve wiped his smug face with a punch! Goddamn it I’m so pissed! Why did Aunt Rawee invite him?”

“I haven’t really told her what happened yet. It seemed so insignificant that I honestly forgot he existed.” Becky sighs exhaustedly. “It’s fine. I can tolerate him for tonight. I’ll tell them once it’s over. I don’t want them to feel uncomfortable during dinner.”

After a few minutes of silence, Irin calmed down as they navigate through the Bangkok traffic. They stopped at a red and were jamming to a random song on a radio when Irin decided to switch it to multimedia, pressing the play button.

“—TERNET IS FOR PORN. WHY YOU THINK THE NET WAS BORN, PORN, PORN, PORN—” Stop.

Becky? Panic-stricken. Irin? Traumatized.

“What the fuck was that, Rebecca?!” Irin recovered after few moments, now laughing her ass off her seat.

Becky, red in the face, panics. “It wasn’t—It’s not—Its’s Freen!”

Irin stopped laughing. “What.”

“N-no! Not like that! It’s Sesame Street!”

“What.”

‘Jesus, is this what Freen felt?’ Becky thinks as she waves her hand, blush creeping off her cheeks. “It’s one of the musicals Freen listens to. Her definition is ‘Sesame Street on Crack’ and I got curious when we were listening to it on our way back, so I continued listening to it this morning when I picked up mom.”

“Okay. Your Freen is weird.”

“Yes. But she’s my Freen.” She grinned sheepishly, showing her whisker dimples.

Irin scowled. “Tch. Gay.”

Becky raised a brow, “Like you’re not?”

“Oh, I totally am. Have you seen girls?” She smirked.

“I only see Freen,” Becky shrugs.

“Okay. Whipped.” Irin says, “I'll ask the community if letter F is taken since you made her into a gender." Irin said, rolling her eyes. "So, is she your girlfriend now? How did Aunt Rawee take that you’re into girls now?”

“No, she’s not my girlfriend yet. And no, I haven’t told mom either. We just started reconciling and I haven’t had the chance to tell her yet. We only talked about how we shouldn’t let our grieving differences put an ax towards our relationship.”

“Wow, about time you realized that.”

“Yeah. Freen was the one who made me think about it, actually.”

“Yeah, and so I was told.” Silence. “You should continue where you left off which is when she led you deeper into the forest. A very Ted Bundy move.”

Becky rolls her eyes. “I’m safe, sound, and didn’t get robbed, Irin. I’m fine!”

“Yeah, you didn’t lose anything—except your virginity!”

Becky sighs dreamily, as if she was taken back to that tent under the stars. She remembers how Freen’s hands delicately caressed her, how much she felt like she was the most precious thing Freen ever held. How Freen made her feel like the entire universe was held into her eyes—

“Earth to Becky? Earth to Becky? You’re spacing out! Oh my God stop reliving it! You’re driving!”

“Well it’s your fault! Stop distracting me!”

“I just wanted you to tell me what happened next! I didn’t want to see how your eyes were practically dripping with honey!”

“Alright, alright! I’ll continue!” Becky momentarily glared at her cousin’s antics. “So, she leads me into this clearing, right? She rented the entire campsite and set up a telescope and a tent and lots and lots of candles.”

“Gosh that is so damn romantic! No wonder you gave it up. I would’ve, too.”

“Silly! It’s not because of that!”

“Mmhmm, sure. Whatever lets you sleep at night, babe.”

“No, seriously, it was not that. It’s just…”

Irin waited for her. She cannot seem to place what word perfectly describes it all.

“Just?” Irin said impatiently.

“Just… Okay, have you ever had someone who says things to you, things like, ‘whenever I look at you, I just know what God wrote you with a smile on His face’. Girl I swear I shivered!”

“Goddamn I need to meet her soon! You sure she’s a math nerd?”

Becky chuckles at that, “I’m pretty sure. I asked her how many languages she speaks, and she asked me if Binary counts.”

Irin laughed on her seat. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah,” Becky laughs, too. “And she was serious about it, too!”

They laughed some more with Freen’s antics. Then, when the laughs faded, Becky sighed.

“All throughout the… deed, she made me feel so cared for, so loved. Every move she made, she asked for consent, like I was the most precious thing she held. She worship me and made me feel like she held her entire universe when she held me.”

Irin’s expression softened, “You deserve it, Becs. You deserve someone who’ll carry your burden with you and not make you feel like you are one.”

Becky's gaze were distant, her smile melancholic. Then, “She hasn’t texted or called, though.” she sulked.

“Girl, she’s probably just giving you space. Did you tell her about dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, that’s it. She probably wants you to just enjoy this day with your family.”

Becky sighed, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

---

Not long after, they arrived at the high-end restaurant. Vibrant lighting and sophisticated atmosphere quickly enveloped them as they entered. They were the last one to arrive, seeing Richie already conversing animatedly with Janus and Fred.

Rawee and Emma are by the chairs, talking about the fiasco they had earlier. Becky quickly ran up to her brother to greet him and give him a hug.

“What are you guys talking about?” Irin followed close behind.

“Oh! Hi coz! How long has it been?”

“Hi, Richie!” Irin waved.

“We’re talking about Diversity Tech.” Janus said.

Irin scowled at the guy. Turning her attention to his father, “Isn’t that where you work, dad?”

“Yup. Actually, they just informed me that they wanted to propose a project to the company. I told them to address it to Sir Heng, our CEO, not to me. I’m the CTO, I only deal with the tech people.”

“Seng and I are also looking to pitch in one of our joint projects as well and will sign up to their—”

“No one asked you, Janus,” Irin said coldly.

“Sheesh! Why are you so cold, coz? Are you on your period?” Richie said, which earned him a glare and slap on his arm from Irin.

“Anyways, yeah. They said they’re open to invest on some of the minor companies that lines with their goals. They are one of the giants with branches across Asia! So, I wanted to pitch in a project with them,” Richie said then he turned to Fred. “Uncle, I heard your CEO is not the owner of Diversity? Then, who decides which ones to invest on?”

“That would be Heng and me.” Fred said. “But in case there’s a split between us, the final decision will be on—”

“Reservation for Mr. Armstrong?” A waiter clad with elegant suit walked out of the door.

“Oops, that would be us. Come on, kids.”

The waiter guides them towards one of the tables near the window that overlooks the city. Soon, they ordered their dishes and continue with their conversations.

“So,” Fred started, “Are you guys together yet?” Fred wiggles his eyebrows

Irin choked on her spit while Janus just stared at Becky longingly.

“No,” Becky says coldly, shutting down the banter quite easily.

“Trouble in paradise?” Rawee asked.

“No, auntie.” Janus says, nervously glancing at Becky who just wore a blank expression on her face. “We actually have 3 projects lined up and 2 brand deals coming.”

That got Becky’s attention. What is this guy talking about?

“No, we don’t. I wasn’t informed of this.” Becky says, rage slowly rising up.

“I tried to tell you, but you don’t—”

“I’ll coordinate this with Blaine.” Anger evident on her voice.

“Becky, dear,” Rawee softly says, “You’re not turning it down, are you? That’s a lot of projects.”

“I… I’ll talk to Blaine about it, mom,” she says calmer.

“That’s all I ask, dear.”

Silence. Then, it was broken by Fred, “Alright, if you’ll excuse me, need to pee.” He calls the waiter, “Sir, can you direct me where the rest room is?”

Uncle Fred casually walks away out of the table when Rawee breaks the silence again.

“Who walks on a restaurant this classy with a messy bun and a hoodie? I thought this establishment has a dress code?” She says with a disgusted tone.

With that description, Becky turned her head so hastily she might’ve broken her neck.

“Do they just let anyone else in? She doesn’t look like she belongs and…” Rawee’s rant faded into white noise as she sees Freen with a blue hoodie with an old police box design—

‘TARDIS,’ Becky thought excitedly. She remembers watching the show with her dad back when they were in UK. She was surprised that the expert knows Doctor Who as it is not that popular in Thailand. She takes in Freen’s appearance, her jeans dangling just above her ankle, wearing a Hufflepuff sneakers.

They see Freen order directly to the manager, handing him a… is that a Hufflepuff card she used to pay?

“Oh, she’s paying with a custom-made card.” Irin whispers, “Is she…?”

“How did you know?” she whispers back.

“Girl, subtle glances aren’t your strong suit.” Irin teased. “I thought you broke your neck for a second.” She chuckles.

“Whatever—”

“Hey, she’s coming over!”

Becky’s heart stopped. Their gaze connected, as one of the waiters guides Freen towards the empty seat next to their table. Becky doesn’t know but even with clothes as simple as a hoodie and jeans, Freen so looked good that she should be criminally responsible for it.

“Dear God, don’t tell me they’ll make her seat beside us?” Rawee whispers with distaste.

‘Jesus fuck. Shut the fuck up, mom!’ Becky thinks as she rolls her eyes at the noise.

Freen strides towards them, her gaze never left Becky with her signature gummy smile that reveals a little dimple on her right cheek.

“Hello, Becbec,” she says happily when she reached their table.

Janus cleared his throat, “Becs, do you know this…” Janus paused as if to find an exact word to describe Freen, “…girl?” he settled.

Becky didn’t hear him, her heart was beating so loud it muted all of the noise surrounding them. It was when Irin nudged her that she was brought out of her reverie.

Becky cleared her throat and stood up, “She—”

“M-Miss Saro—?” Fred walks out of the rest room, taken aback by the visitor on their table.

“Ah, Sir Alfred,” she interrupted and bowed to him with a wai, and Fred reciprocated rather stiffly.

“Do you know her, Fred?” Rawee says, still with a tone of distaste.

“Ah, y-yes.” He clears his throat, breaking Freen’s gaze, “She’s… uhm… one of my best programmers on the department.”

“You flatter me, sir,” Freen says smoothly.

“Becky, how do you know her?” Rawee asked.

“Yes, Becs, how do you know her?” Janus says.

Becky replies, “Uhm…”

Indeed, how does she? She’s not ready to tell everyone about Freen. Not in front of Janus who could leak Freen’s information to the fans. She doesn’t want Freen to face the wrath of her world. She wanted to keep things private between them.

She’s also not ready to tell her family, especially her mom since they just reconciled and she’s scared that she might not accept her. She shouldn't care, right? But her mind was swimming with thoughts between protecting Freen and coming out of the closet only a month after discovering that she was on it. So, she said the next best thing her mind could come up with.

“She’s just a friend.”

Chapter Text

A/N: Angels are creatures in Doctor Who Universe that turns into stone when one looks at them. It only moves when no one sees them and once they touch you, you are transported back in time as your adult self and forced to live the rest of your life on that timeline. This is somewhat a modified version that transports you back as a phantom, instead.

Angels… that’s the word Freen was looking for.

Angels… that’s the name Freen was searching for.

Angels… those are not the soldiers of God people often pray to.

Angels… those are not the ones who will save and make do.

They are the ones who drag you back in time.

They are the ones who cling to the skin and feed off your lifeline.

“Don’t blink,” The Doctor said. “Blink and you’re dead.”

And Freen did.

--

“She’s just a friend,” her queen said.

Ringing filled her ears as distinct hum of the surroundings melted into it. Then suddenly, an angel touched her. No, not the angel that will save her from those four words. But the angel that the Tenth Doctor warned her about, the one that transported her back in time, when she heard those four words the first time.

Freen remembers her smile never faltering. ‘Never let them know you’re hurting,’ she thought. ‘Never give them any reason to hurt you more.’

‘Disassociate.’ She wore that mask so often that it clung to her like second skin. She was able to put it milliseconds after it was real.

Because it was real.

Until it wasn’t.

“A friend?” A guy on a crisp shirt asks. ‘Ah, the little dipshit again. I see.’

“Yes. Not even a friend,” Freen says, still smiling through the mask. “I work as a freelance consultant on one of her movies. So, just colleagues.”

Just then, Freen sees one of the servers with her take out dinner for tonight wrapped in an elegant container. ‘She really goes such extra lengths for a takeout,’ Freen internally chuckles at the chef’s antics, still trying hard to disentangle herself from what was happening.

“Miss Chankimha? Here’s your meal.” The server carefully hands her the elegant container. “The chef instructed to please heat the sauce first once you’re home then pour it on the dish.”

“Alright, thank you,” Freen chuckles and remembers saying.

As if clockwork, she turns to the group, “Have a good night, everyone.” She turns to Fred, “Apologies for interrupting your dinner, sir,” she bows formally to her senior, a Japanese sign of respect and apology.

“N-No, no. Not at all, F-Freen,” the gentleman replied with a kind smile.

The last thing she remembers was walking away from her queen, walking away from everything before the angels took her back to where it hurt the most.

Her surroundings swirled, colors and motions barely registered as she was once again swept by the currents of her thoughts.

‘One step at a time, Freen,’ she thought, fighting hard against the touch of the angels. ‘Don’t falter. Don’t break. Not here. Not yet.’

She was opening her car door when suddenly, her thoughts took her away.

The angels finally won.

The next thing she knew, she’s standing behind a kid, reading a second-hand copy of The Great Wide Sea. She was cradling it like it was something precious, opening it just enough for her to see its contents, as if she was scared she will bruise the spine of the paperback more.

It was the first book the girl bought for herself. She wrapped the covers using a transparent, plastic wrap, careful not to damage it more. The girl stares at the paragraph she was reading, clearly not registering the words. It was January and she was in her sophomore year in high school. Freen sees group of students dancing in a cotillion, with its symphony blaring through the school’s sound system.

‘Ah, that’s probably why she can’t concentrate,’ Freen thought.

But when she looked closer, the girl wasn’t looking at the book all along. Between the carefully opened pages, her eyes drifted past the book into a girl, gracefully dancing at the center of it all. The way the girl swayed and danced through the sweet melody made the observants more enchanted by her beauty.

“Is that Ate Izumi? The exchange student?” the girl heard Luna, one of her classmates.

“Yeah,” the girl replied, her gaze never leaving Izumi.

Then, just like that, the memory vanished. She found herself clutching the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as she hears the sophisticated loud hum of her car. She jolted and was suddenly aware of how fast she was driving.

Through the fog of the memory and haze of tears, she pressed the hazards and slowed down, gasping for air as if the memory consumed her, suffocated her. She pulled over a bend on the expressway as she struggled keep the memories at bay.

Then, her phone rings.

Incoming Call…

My Queen 👑

She ignores it until it stopped, revealing 6 missed calls from Becky. Ignoring everything, she proceeds to turn off her phone while still trying to breathe through the vapors of the memory, trying to control everything as the panic surged in.

But the angels won again. Price of their touch was a nightmare.

Slowly, she felt the sleek console of her car vanish as she was once again swept back with the girl, her mind obviously still with Izumi as rumors about her dating her cousin surfaced. That night, Freen saw the little girl with her friends and asked her cousin, Mac if it was true.

Her cousin smiled and just nodded with the widest dimpled smile Freen had ever seen.

“Are you serious?” Mac's sister, May asked. “Let me get her number! I will interrogate her!”

After some protests from her cousin, the girl found an opportunity. Not to be steal her from him, no, she wouldn’t do it if she can! She’d never even dream of it. Just an opportunity to be her friend. Just so she could at least be somebody to Izumi.

‘No,’ Freen whispered through the thick haze of the memory, ‘you were better off as strangers.’

The girl pulled out her phone and silently smiled at her cunning as she also took down the number that her cousin was dictating.

‘No, don’t do it! No!’ Freen shouted. Agony can be heard with her voice, but no one seems to care, no one seems to hear.

Then, everything vanished once more. Swirls of white and gray enveloped her as she was pulled to another memory. It was the girl, texting the number that her cousin gave.

6:32PM

+639xxxxxxxxx: Hello, Izumi-san. This is Freen. I’m a cousin of Mac. I was just wondering if we can be friends?

6:36PM

Izumi-san: Hello, Freen! Yes, I know you. Mac mentions you frequently. You’re a sophomore, right? I’m Izumi. よろしくね？

6:36PM

Freen: Huh? What was the last word? Sorry, I can’t read it.

6:42PM

Izumi-san: It’s ‘Yoroshikune’. It’s like saying “Please take care of me”, or “I hope we get along.”

The girl was smiling from ear to ear as she can barely control her happiness as her first conversation with Izumi started. Hugging her phone, “I will try my best to take care of you, Izumi-san,” she whispers to the night.

‘I’m sorry, little Freen. I’m really sorry,’ Freen says, kneeling down in front of the girl that can never see her. The scene flickered between the cloudy vision of her hands clutching the steering wheel and the scenes that flooded her mind as she tries to gain control of the attacks.

But she was once again transported to summer of that year. The school year just ended, and the little girl saw Izumi-san walking hand in hand with Mac. Izumi saw her and waved at her with the hand that’s intertwined with Mac’s and pointed at it while Mac just shyly scratched his nape

That was the first time she wore the mask. She timidly smiled her gummy smile and nodded her head, without anyone realizing that it never quite reached her eyes. Only Freen, only the spectator.

The time they went home, Mac’s mom surprised them with a news that their family will be migrating to Canada. She was heart-broken, not only because she will lose her cousins, but also for Izumi. She will be hurt when Mac tells her.

Little Freen immediately cornered Mac that night, “Tell her, Mac.”

“A-Ate Freen…”

“Tell her. I know you love her, but she deserves to know.”

With tears in his eyes, Mac could only nod.

Few months after, the school started. Mac and Izumi broke up, and he and May didn’t bother coming to school since they will join a Canadian school in September. The day they boarded the plane was the last time Little Freen saw them. They were her best friends, the ones that witnessed everything and the ones that stayed.

Until they didn’t.

And suddenly, she was left behind again. But somehow, it stung her worse than when both her parents walked out on her.

“I’m okay,” Little Freen told herself, “I’m used to it.” She said through the smile as she sat down a bench in front of their school, too tired to walk back home.

She smiled, repeating the lines over and over, patting her chest, as if she could will it to hurt less. But her eyes betrayed her as tears continues to fall, blurring her vision. Suddenly, a handkerchief appeared in front of her. She lifted her clouded gaze.

Izumi.

“Your cousin hurt me, chee,” she said softly, smiling with her eyes. She always smiled with her eyes.

Chee. That was what Izumi used to call her.

During one of their text exchanges, Freen was randomly telling something about clouds when Izumi suddenly changed topics.

7:41PM

Izumi-san: I’ll call you chee.

7:41PM

Freen: Chee? Why?

7:46PM

Izumi: It’s Japanese for knowledge. You seem to have many interesting things to say, chee. I bet you’ll be in Ravenclaw.

7:46PM

Freen: Ravenclaw? What’s that?

8:00PM

Izumi: It’s a Hogwarts House. You don’t know?

8:00PM

Freen: No. What is it anyway?

8:15PM

Izumi: It’s Harry Potter. You should read and watch it. It’s one of the best out there!

And Freen did. The next few days, she begged Nanang to let her work at a nearby canteen to buy the books. It took long but Nanang finally relented.

“Just promise me that you won’t let it interfere with your studies. That’s the only thing I could leave behind for you.” Nanang always say on their native tongue.

Months and months of hard work, juggling between school and her job, and one by one, she was finally able to complete the books. She was halfway through her junior year by the time she got into the Fifth Book, The Order of the Phoenix.

It was late November when Freen and Izumi was on the roof of their old house. The night breeze gently sweeping Izumi’s hair as she lays down the roof with her palms at the back of her head as a makeshift pillow.

“大好きなんだよ、チーちゃん,” Izumi said, her thoughts swirling with the stars.

“You’re doing it again, Izumi.” Freen said while cradling a guitar.

“What,” she asked innocently. “I just said the moon is beautiful tonight. Don’t you think?”

Little Freen looked and there it was, shining the brightest at night.

“Yes, it is,” Freen said. “But since you spoke in Japanese again, I’ll sing a song in Tagalog, too.”

“Eh? Why?” Izumi whined. “I wouldn’t understand it!”

Freen shrugged. “Just because.”

Then, her fingers slowly pressed on the fret. Familiar chords and strums beautifully disturbs the quiet of the province.

“Huwag magtaka kung ako ay di na maghihintay,

Sa anumang kapalit ng inalay kong pag-ibig.”

T/N: I beg you not to wonder if I don’t wait

For all the love I give you, and for you to reciprocate

Freen starts the melody. She sung it, pouring everything she felt towards the girl in front of her, hoping it will somehow come across their language barriers.

“Kulang man ang iyong pagtingin,

ang lahat sayo’y ibibigay kahit di mo man pinapansin.”

T/N: Even if I will never be enough and will always be unseen,

I will give you everything that I am, without you noticing

The spectator just stood there, watching everything unravel through a thick tear-stained haze, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop everything. Little Freen never meant for it to bloom.

‘It is a sin,’ Little Freen would always tell herself. ‘It is something that would send you to hell and burn you.’

And yet… and yet she still gave everything to Izumi. She still clung to that sliver of attention she gave, thankfully accepting it, cradling it as if it was the most precious thing she owns.

“At kung hindi man dumating sa ‘kin ang panahon, na ako ay mahalin mo rin,

Asahan mong di ako magdaramdam kahit ako ay nasasaktan

H’wag mo lang ipagkait na ikaw ay aking mahalin.”

T/N: And even if the time doesn’t come for you to love me back,

I promise that I won’t take it against you even if I’m hurting

Just please don’t deny my love for you from pouring to the brim

Little Freen finished the song, letting the chords reverberate through the stillness of the night. Her eyes were closed, denying tears that threatens to come out.

“That was beautiful, chee.” Izumi said, “I’m glad I get to hear it. It’s breathtaking,” her eyes now closed, too, as if she was trying to gauge what the song was about.

Little Freen smiled sadly. “Izumi,”

Still with her eyes closed, “Hmm?”

“When you meet someone that will occupy your heart, can you tell me about it?”

“Freen…” Izumi says, now sitting up with something in her eyes that the little girl can’t quite name.

“I know.” She smiled her gummy smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “Just tell me so I can back off, okay?”

“Why would I want you to back off, chee?”

“It would be unfair for the boy if you still cling to me when it was him who you love,” Freen bitterly chuckles at the prose.

“Okay…” Izumi replied, her voice close to breaking.

‘Oh, Freen. I’m so, so sorry,’ the spectator could only clutch her heart.

Once again, she was swept by lazy afternoons as she slowly watched Little Freen get attached to the books she worked so hard to buy. She was leaning sideways, her head resting on a pillar, sitting on one of the railings of the school’s first floor corridor when Izumi, now on her senior year, hugged her from outside of the building.

She buries her nose on the crook of Little Freen’s neck. The spectator remembers how much Little Freen wished that Izumi wouldn’t notice her trembling with her touch and wouldn’t hear how loud her heart was beating.

“Hi, chee.” Izumi said, her face was still buried on Little Freen’s neck. “I’ve missed you,” she said. “You’ve been reading that for weeks now. I’m jealous.”

“W-What?” Little Freen said, flabbergasted.

“All you do is read Harry Potter. I can’t get your attention at all. I wish I didn’t recommend it,” Izumi sulked.

Little Freen closed the book and leaned into her hug. “Come on now, Izumi,” she let out a nervous chuckle, “You will never not have my attention.”

Izumi just hummed in suspicion, “What part are you on?”

Struggling to swallow her heart, Little Freen whispered, “D-Department of Mysteries.”

The spectator couldn’t take it anymore. She felt suffocated, gutted. She wasn’t only physically transported back. All the pain, the hurt was slow torture as she helplessly watch everything unfold. She willed herself to close her eyes. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t even blink.

‘It is near,’ she said.

Then, as if on cue, the surroundings shifted once more. The school now carried a specific hum in the air that day. The prom approaches, promposals are being made left and right by couples asking each other to be their dates. However, their class was specially buzzing with excitement as Gabriel, one of her classmates, called for a meeting. He was a tall guy that carries a charming charisma effortlessly, with his dimpled smile and his cool aura.

“Guys, I have to ask you a favor,” he spoke to the whole class.

Little Freen sat on her quiet corner of the room, her earphones perched on her ear, but no music could be heard. She was cradling Order of the Phoenix while pretending not to care about whatever they were planning but she was curious.

“What is it, Gabe?” asked Luna, now one of her friends.

“I will ask Ate Izumi to be my date for the prom. Will you guys help me?”

She suddenly heard loud ringing on her ears. Everything felt cold. Like thousands of needles pricked her as her body felt both hot and cold at the same time.

All of her classmates and friends excitedly emptied their room, leaving Little Freen on her corner with her earphones and her book like always. The room felt suffocating for both the spectator and the girl. They went out to the corridor when it happened.

She saw Izumi being assisted by Ate Iris, her best friend, to the center of the field—the same field that she saw her the first time, the very same field that she danced and swayed on, unknowingly capturing Freen’s heart in the process. Little Freen didn’t realize it’s been a year since she cradled that feeling so close to her heart.

She forced herself not to look. Even the spectator willed herself not to.

She willed herself to focus on the book she was holding.

“It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall.” Little Freen reread, words not registering her mind again. “His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch...”

She willed herself to stare at the lines, the lines she read repeatedly for the past hour. She tried her best not to look; she tried her best to blast a song through her earphones. But the booming voices of her friends echoed upstairs.

“WILL YOU BE MY PROM DATE?”

And she looked.

Then, her world fell apart.

Because as sure as Sirius dies from this book, the memory of Izumi smiling with her disappearing eyes and nodding at the question, will forever be etched into her memory.

Through the thick haze of liquid threatening to spill on her eyes, Little Freen caught her eyes. Izumi’s smile faltered for just half a second, enough to let Freen believe that it was just her imagination as Izumi tore her gaze to look at an approaching Gabe cradling a bouquet.

No one knew.

No one knew about how she felt.

Not even her friends upstairs.

No one knew.

Because what if everyone knew?

What if everyone saw how her eyes would light up with Izumi’s light?

What would her friends say?

Would they like what they saw? Or would they hate it, too?

She was scared of everything. She was scared of being judged a sinner for something she had no control over. She was scared that she would be avoided by her friends, by her family… by Nanang.

So, she never let anyone know, never let anyone in.

She had no one to share the agony with.

And it crushed her.

It broke her.

It ruined her.

‘A sinner like you deserves this kind of heartbreak.’ A harsh voice echoes. ‘I told you you’d burn in hell if you let this grow. And look at you now, burning in agony as the one you love is being cradled by someone other than you.’

She didn’t know it was love. It clawed on her chest, a wound harrowingly painful but never left a scar. She didn’t know what love was before she came. Because she didn’t realize it was love until it became this painful.

Her classmates came down after the successful proposal only to find her on the quiet corner of the room, silently sobbing on lines that was never really read.

“When did you guys get together?” one of the boys asked Gabe, ignoring the crying nerd on the corner.

“December,” he said smiling.

‘December? It was November when I told her to tell me about it…’ the girl thought. ‘She promised to tell me.’

“Why are you crying, Freen?” Luna asked worriedly.

“Sirius died, Luna,” she just told her through the sobs. Because what else can she say other than the truth? She easily forced her gummy smile as if it was just the character that died and not her heart, “I’ll be fine. I’ll just go pee.”

Freen got up and mechanically walked to the rest room. She saw Izumi there, her eyes red from happy tears. The little girl docks on the corner, careful not to be seen by the two as they walk pass.

“What about Freen, Zu?” her best friend asked.

They say the biggest heartbreaks make the best writers in the world.

And right there and then, the world gained another.

And since then, Freen never stopped.

With lines of commands and codes.

Lines of letters or poems.

“She’s just a friend,” Izumi easily shrugged.

As the memory ends and with finality, she blinked.

Chapter Text

Freen wakes up from her nightmare as someone taps the window of her car. Blinking at the brightness of the morning, a man in a uniform signals her to roll down the window for a second.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” The man gently asked her.

Stirring from her uncomfortable state, she winces as she feels her neck stiff from passing out. She slowly nodded, massaging it.

“Yes, sir.” Freen says groggily. “I was sleepy last night and decided to just sleep here than to force myself to go home,” she lied through her teeth.

The enforcer nodded, “Alright ma’am. That was very responsible of you.”

“I’ll get going now. I’m so sorry for this,” she took out her sleek business card from her wallet and handed it to the enforcer, “If I caused any damages or inconvenience, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

“No ma’am. No need for that,” the man smiles softly. “No inconvenience at all. Drive safely,” refusing the card as he motions Freen to be on her way.

She nodded as she starts her car and steps on the accelerator. She absentmindedly drove the familiar route to her apartment and parked her car, almost mechanical, robotic.

She felt empty, hollow, as if all the lifeline she so painstakingly refueled through the years was sucked out by the angels as they feasted on it while she blacked out from the attack.

‘Wow Freen. You’re going two for two now,’ she bitterly chuckles at the darkness of it all. ‘So fucking stupid of you to actually fall for the same trick twice.’

She swears she guarded herself this time. She swears she put up icy walls upon icy walls to protect herself from burning from people who just wants to explore. Every attempt anyone tries to do, she shuts down and could only offer her touch, but not her affection.

But the sun that Becky was, she melted it as easily.

And Freen let her.

And she burned her for it.

Now, she’ll make sure she’ll rebuild it with bricks.

--

She’s been staring at her journal for quite some time now, unsure of what to write. She knows she needed to write something, anything. But for the first time in a long time, words fail. As if the past few pages was blur of happy memories that felt so distant now even if it was only written at the right side of book.

‘Funny how angels work’ she said. She was told they were one of the most merciful races in Doctor Who Universe because even when they pull you back in time, at least they let you live.

But is it even worth living?

Giving up on ever putting a dot on the paper, she sets it aside. She scans her previous journals, volumes upon volumes of secrets and things unsaid. She opens one of her journals, the year when she saw Becky at a mall five years ago, promoting her first TV series, when Becky was not yet a household name all over Thailand.

She plops down at the couch, the dinner from last night lay forgotten on the kitchen counter. She skimmed through the old pages, she reads one, remembering the time before she started to write her journals as if it were letters to Becky.

--

February 10, 2020              

               Today, I saw someone at the mall before the hackathon. She was crying on the pavement, hugging her knees, as if she was carrying the whole world. When I got closer, I suddenly got lost just basking on her.

               Her face was tear-stained and yet, even when she cries, deep whisker dimples still graced her face. Brown hair was cascading through her shoulder, hiding some of her features. When I approached her, I gave her my handkerchief and asked her why she was crying.

               It seems like her dad just died, but even if she was still grieving, her mom asked her to still go to work because she had responsibilities. I sat with her, and I told her I know how it feels to grieve for someone you love all your life. And unfortunately, I think I made her cry even more when I told her that the grief never really disappears.

               I panicked and tried to wipe her tears with my handkerchief, which shocked both of us because why on earth would I touch a stranger’s face, right? I think I smiled awkwardly and scared her even more, so I pulled out a balloon and a coin. I made an impromptu metaphor about how it represents us and grief, put the coin inside the balloon and blew on it.

               I don’t remember what I said. I think I blacked out and made a fool of myself because the next thing that I knew, she was laughing. And God if she was beautiful when she cried, but she was breath-taking when she laughed. The light and the very air were bending around her, like she was the one who invented sunshine. My gay ass brain probably drooled but thankfully, her mom called her and urged her inside the mall to ‘prepare’ or something.

               I breezed through the hackathon on a daze, still managing to solve their puzzles and algorithms but my mind always wanders back to her, on how her laugh made me feel like I ate some butterflies that raged against my stomach. When the hackathon ended, the mall crew were already taking down posters of the event earlier.

               Lo and behold, she was there, at the poster, with a guy. I saw her name, Rebecca Armstrong. God, even her name is beautiful it’s not fair.  Even now, I can’t take my mind off of her. How she cried for her loss, how she laughed on whatever dorky move I did, her giggles still echoing on my mind.

               Am I longing for her? How can I long for someone I only met for 5 minutes? This is not making sense. Her equation doesn’t make sense. But God, why am I asking and praying that we’ll meet again? Whatever happens, I’ll let the fates decide.

              Bahala na.

--

And Freen did. She let those three old hags from Greek Myth decide. She didn’t do anything to be close to Becky, to chase her or to stalk her, no. She followed her on socials, yes, silently joined her fanbase to get a glimpse of what she was doing. But she never attended fan meets, concerts, or anything to pay her way towards her.

Freen just quietly admired the star from a distance, never knowing when they’ll meet, or if they meet again. But she made herself better, in coding, in learning her language, knowing how big of a gap she needed to fill to at least be deserving of Becky’s attention, even if she didn’t have real hope of them ever meeting again.

“What will be will be,” she often shrugs at her friends every time they urged her to attend one of Becky’s concerts. “If it is on our lines to intersect again or not, I will not interfere with fates.”

With exasperation, her friends would call her delusional. And for many long years, she thought so, too. So she gave up on ever meeting her again, thinking that the gut feeling she had was just on passing, and the emptiness of longing would dissipate.

But she never gave up on bettering herself for her. ‘Just in case,’ she would always say. And then, Nam happened. She didn’t expect Becky to be at the other side of the door when she barged into that private conference hall. And when she saw her, she had to play it cool, she had to pretend that she wasn’t shaking, that she was aloof, stern.

Freen focused on the lecture, immersed herself with the theory of encryption and its history, trying hard not to glance on Becky’s piercing gazes. Thank God it worked and she didn’t fumble the discussion but at the end of it, she had to make an excuse to immediately leave and breathe at last.

She knows about Becky’s status and sexuality. She’s never into women. Becky wasn’t someone who will even pay attention to her. So she tried to build walls upon walls to protect herself. But she couldn’t help but care for the star she yearns to reach for so long. She tried to distance herself, knowing how big of a gap they had, knowing that she doesn’t fit Becky’s world.

Sighing, she puts her old journal back, smiling bitterly at cruelty of it all. She turns her phone back on to put her commitments on hold. She might be empty but she’s still responsible.

She ignores every notification from her. First, she has to call Lauren, one of the project managers.

“Hi, Lau, can you deal with the team for now? I’m requesting a leave for today.”

“Freen? What happened? Are you okay? Did something happen?” Lau asked.

“I’m fine. Just take care of the projects for me, will you?”

“Alright. Count on me.”

“And Lau?”

“Yeah?”

“The project with Nam, can you send Billy to be on my stead for the meantime? I don’t think I will be able to make it there too.”

“Done.”

“I’ll talk to Nam about it. Just tell Billy to be at this location at 10AM today. I’ll take care of his schedule.”

“Noted, Freen. Please take all the time you need.”

“Thanks.”

She promptly ends the call only to make another.

“Nam?”

“Hey. What made you call so early in the morning? It’s only 6AM let me sleep.”

“I called to let you know that won’t be able to make it on the taping for a while. Not sure when will I come back yet but I asked one of my colleagues to fill it in for me.” Freen says, “Don’t worry, he may not be as nerdy as I am, but he’ll make do.” Freen chuckles.

“Why? What happened? Are you okay?”

“I am, Nam. No worries. Just had some personal stuff to take care of. His name is Billy. He knows his way around a Turing Machine. I sent him the shooting location for today if you’ll allow me.”

“Of course, Freen. Just please, take care of yourself.”

“No worries. Thanks, Nam.”

She ends the call to make a last one.

“Yo, Sarocha.”

“Hey man, I won’t be able to come today. Not sure yet when will I return though. Please take care of my kid again for me?”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

She’s getting tired of hearing that already. She sighs deeply, barely controlling the irritation on her voice. “I am. Don’t worry about it. Just take care of everything while I’m gone. Don’t. Disturb. Me. Okay?”

“Is this about Becky? Okay, you win. You guys met. Why do you sound so upset?”

“It should feel like that, right? Like I won? Because I get to be somebody to her, like what I’ve always hoped for,” Freen’s voice cracked. “But why do I feel like it was Izumi all over again? I get to be somebody to her, too.”

“She is different from Izumi, Saro. And you know that.”

“Do I? Really? Is she really different? I don’t know, man. I’ll talk to you about it when I’m not emotionally corrupted.” She chuckles, “I’m just not in my right mind to do anything and I don’t trust myself to decide.”

“Alright. Just make sure you’ll be back for the—”

“Yes, yes. Don’t make a fuss about it. Take care of Aki, okay?”

“Alright, I got you and your baby. See you.”

She managed to push through the phone calls needed to tie up some loose ends before she crawls back to her hole. Just as she was turning her phone off, a call came through.

Incoming Call…

My Queen 👑

She rejects the call only to find what’s bombarding her phone with recently received notifications.

My Queen 👑

23 Missed Calls

My Queen 👑

132 New Messages

Chef

1 New Message

She tries to ignore the messages. She really did. But as if to torture herself even more, she opened the messages that the actress left.

Yesterday

            7:23PM

            My Queen 👑: Teerak?

                                 : I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to introduce you to my family as just my friend.

                                 : Please understand. I didn’t mean to. I was just caught off guard when I saw you and I didn’t want to expose you in front of Janus.

                                 : I didn’t want him to know who you are to me because he might tell everyone about us.

                                 : I don’t trust him, and I don’t want to put you through this mess.

                                 : Please, baby. Please understand.

            7:44PM

            My Queen 👑: Baby, please talk to me?

                                 : Are you home?

                                 : Please answer your phone, I’m really worried.

            7:52PM

            My Queen 👑: Teerak. Please talk to me. Please answer your phone.

                                 : I’m really worried. Please answer me?

            8:04PM

            My Queen 👑: Baby? Did you turn off your phone? Please. Please talk to me.

                                 : Please. Please baby.

                                 : At least tell me you’re okay, teerak. Please?

                                 : I’m worried, baby. You’re scaring me.

                                 : Freen?

                                 …

            Then, a series of new notifications popped up.

Now

            6:23AM

            My Queen 👑: Hi baby. I’m so glad I could call you again.

                                 : Did you get home safe last night?

                                 : Please don’t hang up the phone. Please talk to me.

                                 : Can I see you before the taping today? Can we please talk?

            Then, a call popped up again.

                                 Incoming Call…

                                 My Queen 👑

She rejects it yet again and turned her phone off before throwing it across the room. Even though she dreamed about this for so long, she cannot deal with another trauma. She’s just sick and tired of being just a phase.

For years, that’s been her life, indulging some people who’d experiment with her. But she long detached herself from people seeking her, touching them to satisfy their curiosity, but never lets them touch her, even though most people sought more than just the night.

She never let anyone in, not after Izumi. Not after years of longing for Becky.

She drags herself off the couch and takes a shower. She needs a distraction. She needs to do anything to divert herself from this hallow feeling that’s clawing through her chest.

How can she be so fucking stupid? Thinking all of it was true? Maybe she really was delusional. She let herself believe that a star, so unreachable, so unattainable, would want someone like her, a weird nerd who dwells with Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Star Wars and maths?

She enters the shower, letting the water flow from her face, her eyes too dry from the tears she shed last night. Her chest hurts, her heart beating as if it was made out of barbed wire that slashes through her with every breath.

Her lungs struggled to breathe, as if everything around her feels suffocating. The touch of the angels still stung, still clung into her skin no matter how hard she scrubs it off her.

“She’s just a friend,” Becky said.

Her eyes are closed but she can still see how Becky said it.

How Becky’s jaw tightened as tension of the conversation simmered.

How Becky’s brows furrowed so much that she can see how the gears in her brain churn to find a word that would deny Freen’s meaning.

How her eyes screamed in panic when she saw Freen’s fixed gaze on that little dipshit.

Because that little dipshit was someone she could brag about with her family.

Someone she could hold with her chin held high.

Janus fits.

Being together with him makes so much sense. He’s the solution set that would make the equation work.

And she? She was a secret, someone Becky kept in the little corners of her world, hidden behind the quiet coffee shops and subtle glances. Freen doesn’t fit the variables and the functions.

She’s the outlier, the insignificant part of the data set that experts ignore.

What was she thinking? Deluding herself that she could ever be someone Becky would want.

Freen saw it all. She wasn’t dumb. She had observed Becky countless of times before. How her brows furrow differently when she’s thinking of a solution or a white lie.

How it would crash perfectly in the middle when she gets annoyed or mad. How her cheeks becomes red with teasing and how her ears could easily betray her when she wants something but tells Freen otherwise.

She had the privilege to observe her closely. And she did.

She mechanically finished up and turned to put on a shirt and an overall.

She remembered propping a fresh canvas on the easel outside her balcony, taking out oils and thinners and brushes and knives.

She remembers coating the canvass with liquid whites and started with her 2’ brush as she paints the horizon with Phthalo Blue and Midnight Black. Brush after brush as clash of colors layered the canvass, her mind mirroring the state of her heart—broken, shattered, dark.

‘One stroke at a time,’ Freen says, ‘Breathe and just put it one stroke at a time.’

And that, she did. She picks up different brushes and mixes different shades of paint. Her mind in turmoil as no clear picture comes to her mind.

Only her. Only Becky.

The sun was sinking into the horizon when she finished with her painting. Words might have failed her, but her paints never fail to reveal the state of her mind.

She takes a step back, seeing the whole picture for the first time as the sun bleeds crimson over the city.

She takes a step back and sees the contrast of the sunset with a dark painting of a dark forest. Candles luminating the ground with a telescope and a tent, while stars luminates the sky. Flickering brightly at the center, two girls wrapped around each other, foreheads pressed together, frozen in the middle of a dance.

Right there and then, she drops her paint brush and her palette. Her body fails her as her knees gave out, taking everything with it.

For even when her mind is blank, Becky was still on it.

For even when her heart is shattered, Becky was still in the middle of it.

But she cannot let that happen.

Not again.

So she forces herself stand.

Between her wobbling knees and blurred vision, she brushed off the dust.

She washed the remnants of the oils on her skin and the smell of thinner that clung and prepared for the long night ahead.

She finds the key to her ride and drives somewhere to clear her head. She found herself on a familiar batting cage, the one where Becky took her on their first date. And there, she let out every frustration with every swing of her bat with fast and curve balls hurdling towards her.

She missed this. She missed the sound the bat makes every time it taps the ball. That specific clang for a homerun. The split second it takes to decide whether to swing, or where to swing. She reels on the burning sensation of her arms, because any other sensation would do.

Clang. A hit for the vivid colors that danced her vision when she finally met Becky in person.

Clang. A hit for the thousands of reasons she told herself why she was deserving of Becky’s attention.

Clang. Another hit for the future plans she dared to dream with the girl she’s been pining on.

Clang. Another for the ways she made herself better for years just to be the worthy one.

Clang. For that dream of campfires and telescopes, sweet nothings and smores, and all the stars that shone.

Clang. For that sweet, sweet dream and the nightmare she’s waking up on.

Through the night, she swung. She swung with every force she can muster until her arms gave out, until she was reduced into a sobbing mess with arms so weak she can’t lift them up.

She wasn’t able to breathe, as if the oxygen itself is suffocating her. In quiet desperation, she takes her phone out and turns it on to call the only one she could only depend on.

She stares at her screen, waiting for her to pick up with the eyes that was once vibrant brown, now orbs of blanks and blacks.

Calling…

Chef

Chapter Text

The dinner was a fiasco for Becky. The moment those four words escaped her, regrets came flooding in almost immediately. She watched Freen’s gummy smile falter just a millisecond. Not enough for everyone to notice but enough for Becky to know she was putting her mask on.

She watched how Freen’s eyes slowly drained of its colors, from vibrant brown, vividly lighting up whenever their gaze meet, to the dull colors of the desert and drought.

“Yes. Not even a friend,” her Freen said through her painfully sweet smile, now looking at Janus. “I work as a freelance consultant on one of her movies. So, just colleagues.”

Just colleagues.

Those words pierced Becky like a thousand needles through her heart. She looks at the expert, her jaw tensed. As if degrading herself even more could ease the pain.

She looks at Freen, pleading with unsaid words and unshed tears. But Freen’s gaze never left the man, as if she just solved a puzzle more painful than deciphering a nazi attack.

Then, without looking at her, Freen takes her dish, a small genuine smile tugs at her lips when the server told her about the instructions left by the chef, but it was fleeting. She bids her farewell and bows 90 degrees to Uncle Fred, apologizing for crashing their intimate dinner and turns her back to the exit.

“Freen…” Becky whispers, her voice almost cracking behind the sobs she tries so hard not to let slip. But her cry was left unheard as Freen lifts up the hood of her jacket, walking away from Becky’s denial.

She took a step towards the retreating figure of the person whom she valued the most, but a hand gripped her wrist. She turns to see Janus standing next to her, preventing her to follow Freen.

“Let the fuck go,” Becky seethes, her voice barely a whisper as she frees her wrist upon the man’s grip. With long strides, she followed Freen through the door into the parking lot.

She saw a taillight of a Maserati leaving the space but there was no sign of Freen’s blue Eco Sport. She frantically digs through her bag for her phone to call her, to tell her how sorry she was the moment those words were said. That she didn’t mean to deny her like that.

But it didn’t work.

Because regrets didn't come first.

They never do.

So she tries again. To call. To explain. To at least tell her how much she wanted to come with her instead. But all it was to no avail.

‘She’s driving,’ Becky tells herself, ‘She’ll answer once she’s back home. She never declines my calls. She will answer.’ She clings into those words like a mantra that she wishes would come true if repeated.

But calls remained unanswered. So she texts her. She lets her know about the situation. Hopefully, she’ll see it when she’s calmed down. Hopefully, she’ll understand. Because she cannot let Freen slip through her.

No.

She can fix this.

She’ll fix this.

She needs to.

“Becky?” A man calls her. “She was not just a friend, wasn’t she?” Her brother’s tone was always soft, almost the same gentleness her dad had.

“Richie…” she clings to her brother’s lapel. “No. She’s—she’s the one for me and I know it. When I’m with her, I could just be myself, without any pretense, without any act or script,” her voice cracks as she finally let out a sob. “But I just denied her like that in front of everyone.”

Her brother hugged her tightly. “I know you have your reasons why you did. But, princess, if you think she’s the one for you, you should be brave enough to say it unapologetically.”

“W-What if I messed it up, Rich?” her voice breaking through her sobs. “What if this ends everything before it even started?”

“Yeah, like it stopped you before” Richie chuckles, “Look at this, if what you claim is true, that she’s it for you,” her brother smirks, “Being dad’s princess that you are, you always get what’s yours, by hook or by crook.”

Richie reached for her tear-stained eyes, fixing her smudged mascara, “Now, shall we get back? I’m starving!”

They come back to a very tense table masked in low voices and clanking of utensils as they ate through the appetizers.

“I’m just saying, if you’re gonna go to a classy restaurant, she should’ve at least dressed up for the occasion.” Rawee said, “I didn’t even know that you know him, Fred.”

“And what if I didn’t?” Fred asked, his tone low but his anger evident. “You still would’ve spewed horrible stuff about her even if you didn’t even know her.”

“What’s so special about her anyway? I bet she couldn’t clean and dress up if she wanted to, with the meager salary that she had.”

Alfred scoffed, “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You shouldn’t judge people by the way they look, Rawee. It might come back and bite you—”

“What’s this about?” Becky asked, her tone laced with quiet anger. “Are you guys talking about Freen?”

“Sweetie, where did you—”

“Don’t talk about Freen like that, mom,” Becky says, her voice dangerously low. “I will not tolerate any bad thing you say about her. Not in front of me or anyone else.”

Rawee exhaled in resignation. “Alright, alright! I apologize, Fred. It won’t happen again. Please apologize to your subordinate too, on my behalf.”

The mains soon arrived and different topics of conversations were discussed. As for Becky, she was bombarding Freen with messages under the table, not caring about anything being said by the others.

‘Is she home yet? God damn it why isn’t she answering?’ Becky thought.

She was bombarding Freen with messages as panic seeps into her. She clears her throat and excuses herself.

“Rest room,” she mumbles. She didn’t wait for their response as she strides the length of the restaurant through the ladies’ room.

A hand grips her wrist again. “Who is she, really, Becs?” Janus says, expression on his face, unreadable.

“It’s none of your business, asshole,” Becky hisses, “That’s the second time you’ve touched me today without my consent. One more and your crotch gets it,” she says as she yanks his hand off of her.

She pushes the door and locks it, pacing back and forth, her phone on her ear as she frantically dials a number she knows will never answer.

But she still tried. ‘Just in case,’ she said. ‘Just in case she changes her mind and still chooses me.’

She was just pulled out of her spiral by a knock on the door, “Becky? Are you still there?” Irin says, worry evident on her voice.

Becky clears her throat and swallows a sob, “Y-Yes. I’ll be coming out in a minute.”

She fixes herself, puts on her well-practiced mask and lets out a long sigh, readying herself with the upcoming façade she had to face with her family.

She worn the mask so perfectly that none of them suspected a thing. Only the worried looks of Richie and Irin lingered because they knew about the situation, not because Becky has let it slip.

In Irin’s insistence, they drove to her apartment for a sleepover, knowing that Becky will need someone for the night and Rawee was taken home by Richie instead.

“Have you heard anything from her?” Irin asked, her brows creasing in worry, settling herself on the passenger’s seat.

“No, no messages or calls from her. I must have left her a ton by now. Irin, I fucked up.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Irin says, bluntly. “But what are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know. I’m spiraling. I was caught off guard when she arrived and I panicked. I didn’t want Janus to know anything about it since he can do something that would jeopardize everything. And I haven’t even told—Irin I don’t know what to do.” Becky runs her fingers through her hair, willing herself to somehow think of a solution.

“Look, focus on driving first and calm down. We’ll talk strategy when we’re home.”

They pull over the complex. Becky barely raised the hand break when she grabbed her phone to call Freen immediately.

But like before, her heart sinks as Freen ignores it. She felt helpless, restless. Her heart broke as soon as those four words left her. Her heart broke by the way Freen’s face shifted just for a millisecond, on how the colors of her eyes dulled.

“You need to calm down!” Irin cuts through her haze, “Crying hysterically and pacing around your house aren’t doing anything but making me dizzy!”

“Irin, I can’t. I can’t calm down not knowing where she is or if she had arrived safely. What if something happened to her? I’m really worried.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve thought about things like that when you told us she’s just a friend!” Irin hissed, “You’re not good at this ‘being gay’ thing at all! If I only knew you’d say that, I would’ve shoved that baguette on your mouth to stop you from talking!”

Not hearing what Irin says, Becky just paced around the room, tear-stained and spiraling. “She’s it for me, Irin, I know it. She’s the one for me and I may have just fucked this up before we even started.”

Irin’s face softened. “What do you want to do now?”

“I want to go to her, to make sure she’s okay. To tell her that I love her and that she’s the only one who makes me feel like I don’t have to wear a mask like a second skin for people to like me. I want to go to her, to let her know that she doesn’t need to court me now because I’m hers and she’s mine.”

“What? What do you mean court? Huh?”

Becky sighs, stopping her frantic paces to explain. “Before we parted ways yesterday, she asked me if she could court me to, you know, make things right.”

“My God such a fucking sap! And she’s goddamn gorgeous, too! I swear to God Patricia if you don’t fix this, I will take her from you!”

That earned a sharp look from Becky, “Shut the fuck up. I’m racking my brain on how I am going to fix it. It’s so fucking hard not knowing where she went or where she lives!”

It’s true. From all the dates they had for the past month, Freen was the one who always had the car and would fetch her to and from her apartment. But then, an idea popped into her head. An unhinged one, but it’s better than nothing.

She unlocked her phone and dialed.

“Becky, she won’t answer. Maybe for tonight, let her be?” Irin says softly.

“I’m calling your dad.”

A confused look on Irin’s face, “Why?”

“To ask him if he knows where— Uncle hi, I’m sorry I wish I didn’t wake you up.” Her voice a little raspy from crying but still managed to perfectly sound okay.

“No, not at all. What can I get you at this hour?”

“Do you have Freen’s address? I—”

“Freen? Miss Sarocha? Why do you need it?”

“I—she dropped something by the parking lot when I tried to go after her, and I wanted to give it back to her.”

“Wow what a clever lie,” Irin whispered which gained her another sharp gaze.

“I am not allowed to disclose such information, Becky. You’ll see each other tomorrow anyway. Isn’t she a consultant on your movie?”

“Oh, y-yeah. I just thought—anyway, thanks, uncle. Good night.”

She finally plops down the seat beside Irin, resigning.

“I hope I can still fix this. I don’t want to lose her, Irin. Not when she made me feel all those wonderful things at once.”

“For now, all we can do is to wait until tomorrow. Talk to her before the taping and give her space.” Irin pats her shoulders. “You need to sleep now and take a beauty rest for tomorrow.”

---

The next day, she was on set earlier than usual. She and Blaine talked about the project Janus had said the night before and there really were offers made.

“Becks, as your manager, I don’t think we could turn these down. But you’re my priority. Can you work with Janus, still? Or you’re not comfortable around him anymore?”

“I can still work with him. I just hope he cooperates and not do something that would jeopardize that. When will be the premier of our movie?”

“Ah, yes, it’s going to be on 26^th, Friday two weeks from now. And there will be a press-conference before it starts.”

“Alright,” Becky says, half-distracted as she scans the set for the silhouette of a girl on a hoodie and a messy bun.

“It’s almost 10AM, Nam. Where’s Freen?” She asked the producer.

“Oh, yeah I forgot to tell you guys.” She clapped, gaining all the attention of the cast, “Guys! Listen up! Miss Freen will be on leave starting today. She didn’t give any reasons as to why, but she sent one of her colleagues to fill her role.”

Nam taps the back of a tall-looking man, “Guys, this is Billy. Please, give him a warm welcome around, hm?”

The cast greeted him and patted his back, welcoming him to the group. But Becky’s mind is somewhere else.

‘She didn’t go here today… she’s avoiding me.’ And instead of getting her heart broken at the thought, she seethes through it.

‘You don’t get to avoid me, Sarocha. No, no. You will let me explain. You will hear it.’

And before she knew what she was doing, she took long strides towards Billy, yanking his arm.

“Where is Freen?” she asks, her voice carefully controlled but a little anger seeped.

“M-Miss Rebecca! Hi! I’m—”

“Hi! Where’s Freen? Do you know where exactly she is?” She asked, fury masked by her well-practiced smile.

“I-I don’t know, miss. Lau just called me today and asked if I could sit in for M-Miss Sarocha,” Billy said, terrified of the actress’s sharp gaze.

“Then, do you have this ‘Lau’s’ number? Can you ask her if I could get it?”

“I-I’ll ask her, miss.”

“Thank you,” Becky said, her lips smiling but veins on her forehead can be seen.

‘If you don’t come here soon, Sarocha, I swear to God I’ll hunt you down. You even dare reject my calls?’

She pulls out her phone and sends a message to Freen.

10:42AM

To: Lebenslangerschicksalsschatz 🤍

                        : I see you didn’t come in for the taping today.

                        : I swear if you think you can run from me without hearing me first, you’re very sadly mistaken.

                        : You better be here tomorrow. Or I swear I’ll hunt you down. 🙃

                        : Not a threat, teerak. Just plain fact. ❤️

She puts her phone back, not expecting a reply, though she can see the double ticks, sign that Freen has seen her prior messages. Though distracted by the missing expert, Becky still breezes through her scripts and parts. She did good in studying her role in advance with Freen’s constant help and she actually did very well, earning a praise from Alex.

At the end of the day, Billy reluctantly approached her.

“M-Miss, Lau said Mi—Freen is at home, as far as she knows.”

“Hi, Billy. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Becky said, much calmer now. “May I know her address?”

“T-That’s it, Miss Becky, none on our team knows where she lives…”

With that very valuable information, Becky just inhales sharply and scarily smiled at the poor man. “Thank you,” she said, her tone laced with quiet poison.

While the set was wrapping up for the day, Becky sat there, thinking of ways to reach out to Freen. She felt guilty, not only because she lied to her family, but also because she hurt someone she lo—someone who means to her more than anyone.

But ultimately, she is now pissed at the expert. She knows she probably doesn’t deserve a chance to explain but Freen’s making it hard for her to reach out! No one’s helping her, not even her Uncle Fred.

It was Nam who pulled her out of her thoughts when she tapped her shoulders.

“I heard you’re looking for Freen?” Nam says.

“Ah, yes, P’Nam. I was just wondering where she could be. It’s just that, there’s something important that I need to tell her,” Becky explained.

“Ah, when we were on a call this morning, she didn’t seem well. I think she had colds, her voice was stuffy, and it sounded like her throat was sore.”

‘Fuck. She cried. I fucking knew it.’

She was raging inside at her cowardice, at the way she denied her in front of her family, of Janus. She didn’t deserve that. If only she was a little braver, if only she didn’t care about what other people might think of Freen… but the thought of putting her into so much hate once the fans knew about her…

“Thank you, P’Nam.” Becky said softly but detached, her thoughts still swam with her regrets. “I really appreciate it.”

“I know you’ve been close to her the past month that we’ve been working together, but for now, Billy could still answer your questions. He’s not Freen but still.”

She smiles at that. “Yes, P’Nam. Thank you.”

“Maybe we should let her rest for now. So she can come back sooner.”

Then, Nam patted her back and bids her goodbye for the night.

‘Okay,’ she tells herself, ‘I’ll leave her be for tonight. But I swear to God if she rejects my phone call one last time or if she doesn’t attend tomorrow’s taping, I will storm at Diversity and demand.’

--

The sun streaks its golden light on Becky’s apartment by the time she woke up the next day. It was a horrible night for her, tossing and turning, trying to distract herself just so she would not disturb the girl that’s been driving her crazy the whole month. But she had to give her space.

She knows she hurt her with those words, but Freen didn’t even give her a chance to explain. Now, today, if she sees that the expert didn’t come in for the taping, she will personally visit her at her workplace.

She pulls up at the set with Blaine and immediately scans the crowd for a girl on a messy bun.

But still, the girl didn’t come.

‘Alright. That’s it!’

She approached Nam, “P’Nam, hi. Can I ask for you guys to put my scenes up first for the shooting? I have an… urgent task to attend to and I don’t want to go just like that since folks are already here.”

“Hm? Does that… task involve someone with a messy bun and a hoodie?” Nam says as she wiggles her brows, teasing Becky.

“P’Nam! I’m dying here!”

Nam laughs at her antics, “That’s considerate of you to think of the crew. I’ll see what I can do.”

By the time Becky’s finished with her scenes, it was already 2PM. She thanks the crew for their work and heads out with Blaine. She then immediately went to Diversity Tech after dropping off her secretary and headed straight to the reception.

“Hi, can I ask for Freen?” Becky asks the receptionist.

When the receptionist lifted her head from the computer, her mouth went gape. Shaking herself from the daze, “M-Miss Rebecca Armstrong? I-I’m sorry. I’m a huge fan! I—can I ask for your autograph?” the receptionist says.

Flattered by the receptionist’s reaction, Becky chuckles. “Of course!” then proceeds to sign a random photocard of a… beach? Alright, she’s signed weirder stuff from fans before. She was not about to complain.

“Uhm, Miss? Freen is currently on a meeting with her team. Would you mind waiting for 5 minutes while I inform her?”

“Sure,” Becky drags her gaze at her name tag, “Zee. Thank you.”

“Please take a seat for a meantime.”

While waiting for Freen, Becky takes in her surroundings. The headquarters for Diversity Tech had high floor-to-ceiling glass walls that allows toned natural light of the day to seep through the lobby. With open tables, colorful chairs, and sockets that encourage collaborations and discussions among peers. Beanbag chairs and cozy indoor swings are also carefully placed on the corners for deep concentration and solo work.

On the other side of the room, parted by an entirely glass wall, is a buffet that’s serving throughout the day, seemingly free for the employees to snack or to have a meal anytime they want. Becky thinks that the owner of the company must have cared for their employees deeply for them to think about this much consideration when the building was designed.

“M-Miss Becky?” Zee approached her. “I was told by Miss Freen that if you have any more questions about the movie, kindly approach Sir Billy instead as she is quite busy at the moment.”

Becky is so fed up with this. “Kindly tell Freen that I will talk to her whether she likes it or not. It’s just a matter of me barging into where her meeting is right now or if she will come here and talk to me alone,” she smiled at Zee, one that doesn’t reach her angry eyes.

The poor receptionist noticed her dark aura and nods in fright. “N-Noted, Miss Becky. I will tell her at once.”

‘I am calm. I am not a raging storm that’s about to blow up at her gorgeous face. I am the epitome of lull. And I will be patient.’ She repeats those thoughts as she closes her eyes and controls her breathing.

She sees Zee coming back, sweating profusely because of their exchanges. “M-Miss Becky, please follow me.”

Becky smirks at the thought of Freen relenting.

Zee led her into a conference room, and immediately sees Freen, busy typing on her laptop with her headphones on. Her brows furrowing with concentration as she holds up her index finger, asking them to wait while typing furiously with one hand.

After few seconds, she pulled her headphones down and looked at Zee.

“Thanks, Zee. I owe you one,” Freen said, smiling at her.

Fighting her blush, Zee frantically left the room which earned a raised brow from Becky.

“What the hell was that?” She asked Freen, jealousy seeping through her voice.

“What are you doing here, Rebecca?” Freen retaliated, not answering her question.

“Ah, so it’s Rebecca, now. I thought I was your queen?”

“Well, we thought a lot of things, but it was clearly just a misunderstanding, mostly on my part. Apologies for that,” Freen says, her tone laced with quiet indifference masked with professionalism.

“What in the sweet Jesus fuck do you mean you misunderstood?” Becky’s anger slowly rises again.

“Ooh, language, Rebecca. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, Freen,” Becky’s gaze sharper now. “I kiss you with this mouth. And it seemed like you didn’t have any problem with it last weekend.”

Freen’s jaw tightened at Becky’s brazenness. Her breath hitched, shaking off her initial shock. She then starts gathering her things, “You know what? I-I need to go. I still have hot fixes to deploy before the sprint ends,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose, her tone faltering, elusive.

But before she leaves the room, Becky caught her wrist, “You listen to me! You didn’t misunderstand! Please, just listen!” The mix of fury, desperation, and longing that were seen on her eyes were also heard from her voice.

Freen gently shook off her hold, not hearing Becky, not even daring to look her in the eyes, “I-I need to go,” she said quietly, still not looking, with tears threaten to spill the sides of her eyes. She opens the door and promptly leaves the room.

Her anger boiling over, Becky follows her. Yanking the door open, she shouted at the empty corridor.

“Give it back!”

Freen froze mid-step then turned. “What are you talking about? I didn’t take anything from you, Rebecca.”

She took long strides towards Freen, her gaze as sharp as the coldness she brings. She stopped until they were only inches from each other, their breaths mingling as no one seemed to back down.

“You did!” Becky seething in quiet anger. “Give it back! If you’re not going to listen to me, give me my virginity back!”

Chapter Text

Becky found herself mere inches from Freen. Anger, guilt, and desperation lingered in her eyes. Anger for Freen, for continuously avoiding her, for herself for being such a fucking coward that the fear got the better of her. Guilt for denying someone who she is so clearly enamored with, and the desperation to explain herself, to at least make the expert understand her reasoning behind her actions.

Freen urged herself to just run towards the elevator and lock herself on her office upstairs, to deflect, to just avoid everything before it gets all complicated and tangled.

But her feet remained glued to the floor, the coldness of Becky’s aura sent shivers down her spine as words struggled to form, lumping on her throat.

“Give me my virginity back!” she repeated, louder this time, the intensity between her eyes and tone grew as her anger simmered. Becky was sure that Zee at least heard it as they are now near the reception area, but she didn’t care.

Freen’s eyes widened as she looked for other people that might’ve overheard them. Making sure no one else did, Freen finally took a hold of her wrist and dragged her towards the elevator.

Becky doesn’t know why she said that but her anger got the better of her again. She was not used to being ignored, to being avoided. But it seems like Freen has done anything but the norm for her and it’s driving her crazy!

“You didn’t hear anything,” Freen told Zee, setting down her things in front of the receptionist, which promptly earned a very fast nod from the blushing receptionist.

They then went towards the elevator and just before it closes, Freen stops it with her hand and shouts, “Zee, tell Lau and long-face to take care of things for me again today. Thanks!” She warmly smiles as she waves at the receptionist, closing the elevator this time.

Becky sees Freen swipe another customized card with ‘HxH’ mark on the elevator and pressed for the top floor.

Freen lets out a deep sigh and faces Becky, “What did you want to talk about?” she starts, now facing her, arms protectively wrapping on her chest, all the smile and warmth earlier, gone.

“Freen…” Becky says, stepping closer towards Freen, reaching for her arm. Her heart hammering through her chest so fast it physically hurts. She swallows all the guilt that’s been consuming her the past few days, “You didn’t misunderstand anything. You have to believe me. I like you, I really, really do.”

Freen remained silent. She closes her eyes and takes a step back, avoiding Becky’s touch. The air was thick with tension and gnawing guilt. She stepped forward and reached for Freen’s face, cupping it gently, silently asking the expert to look at her.

“Teerak, please believe me.” Becky’s voice now soft, all the pain and regret evident on her tone. “You are everything I could’ve asked for. The way my problems easily disappears with just your genuine smile,” tears now threatening to spill on her eyes.

“How easy it is to be just myself when I’m with you, the way you effortlessly lift my burdens just by your easy solutions and your comfortable silence…” Becky continues as the sound of her desperate pleas and confessions resonate throughout the small space. “Please, you have to believe me, baby.”

Freen’s breath hitches, her heart stuttering with what Becky just revealed. Dead butterflies starting to come alive and flutter.

“Then, why…” Freen’s voice cracks, the enormity of everything that had happened finally dawning on her, finally seeping through her defenses and disassociation.

“It’s because I was a coward. I wasn’t brave enough to tell them how much you mean to me,” Becky says, stepping closer, closing the distance as much as Freen could allow. “This is all new to me, I never even entertained the possibility that I would like a girl, not until I saw you with your messy bun and your damn Hufflepuff hoodie.” Becky tries to wipe the tears that’s forming on the experts eyes as she let out a chuckle close to whimper.

“So I am not exactly out of the closet yet, especially in front of my family. I was also scared of what Janus might do to you, to us, especially with the fans who can’t separate the reality and the business. And we barely even started, whatever it is between us. I didn’t want to ruin it, and I wanted to protect your privacy as much as possible, for as long as I could.”

The fog of hurt on Freen’s mind slowly lifting with the clarity of reason. Her sobs echoed throughout the elevator as tears finally fall from her eyes. But still, Becky didn’t let it go unwiped.

“I’m just saying it for now, baby.” Becky coos her, her thumbs still wiping the tears from the expert. “But one day, I promise you, it will be different, hm? Just please, please be patient with me while I gather the courage to be with you so, so openly like you so clearly deserve.”

And with that, Freen nods as she leans in, capturing Becky’s lips on a very wet, tear-stained kiss, her glasses fogging between their breaths. Becky inhales sharply upon the contact but easily leans into it, pouring all the longing and guilt she felt for the past few days.

The elevator dings open, separating them from their kiss. Freen gently pulled her to her office. But Becky didn’t have the time to spare a look around the place because as soon as Freen clicks the door shut, Becky pinned her towards the frosted door, removed her glasses and begun devouring her lips.

“Next time,” Becky says in between their torrid kisses, all the pain and gentleness from the elevator, gone and replaced with quiet furry and possessiveness, “if you think you can avoid me for long, think again,” she says as their tongues fight for dominance.

Freen relented when Becky took her wrists and pinned it on top of her head while Becky sucks her tongue, capturing it, exploring every corner of Freen’s mouth. Her kisses trailed down Freen’s neck, settling on her pulse point just below her ear.

“You’re mine,” Becky says, her voice unusually low and husky, all of the tenderness and rawness of her voice replaced with possession and ownership.

“And mine alone,” she said, sucking at the spot, biting, licking, soothing it, marking Freen as hers. “Not Nico’s, not Zee’s, mine. And I’m claiming you, every inch of you.”

And Freen? Freen was a moaning mess. All the pain and the hurt she felt the past few days were nothing but torture. But this? This was an entirely different kind of torture. And she’s not about to complain.

The shiver on her spine since Becky had her pinned hasn’t subsided when new waves of pleasure dawned on her. Becky pressed her thigh in between hers as she found Becky pulling the hem of her Ironman hoodie and drops it on the floor with her shirt. Becky leaned and pinned her wrists again helplessly above her head.

“Now, only I get to touch.” Becky says between their kisses, only to capture Freen’s lips again, sucking the lower, nibbling, swiping her tongue to soothe it again. Then, suddenly, she walked away from the heaping mess of Freen.

Confused from the sudden distance, Freen caught her breath as she watches Becky sit down on the couch of her office. She crosses her legs, an arm draping over the length of the couch, while the other was propped on the backrest, her knuckles supporting her temple, like a predator about to eat its willing prey.

What a fucking sight.

‘Goddamn it why is she so fucking hot? She could step on my neck, and I would thank her,’ unhinged thoughts of a half-naked unhinged programmer.

“Come,” Becky commands.

Freen swallows visibly, the dead butterflies on her stomach returning to life, fluttering back, “Becbec, I don’t think that’s a—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Becky said coldly.

Freen swallows once again, as if willing some moisture back on her dry throat. ‘Good God, I am on my own office, half naked, reduced into a mess by a midget young actress. Where will my top reputation go after this?’ Freen thinks as she steps out of her hoodie and shirt that was pooled underneath her.

“Good girl,” Becky says huskily.

‘God damn it she didn’t need to be this fucking hot. But oh my fucking God why am I so fucking turned on? Am I secretly a bottom? Oh God.’ were the thoughts on Freen’s head while she made her way in front of the actress. All the ache of the prior days long forgotten.

Becky slowly unbuckled Freen’s belt, unzipped her slacks and pulled it down to her knees. And then, just as Freen thought she couldn’t be more turned on, without breaking their eye contact, Becky lifted her leg, put it on the slacks between Freen’s knees, and stepped on it, letting the slacks fall with her foot.

‘Sweet Jesus fuck. Yup, I’d bottom for her. I’m a bottom now.’ Freen thought as she inhaled sharply

She pulls Freen into her lap, making Freen straddle her. She pulled her by the nape, clashing their lips once again. She trails open-mouthed kisses, tracing Freen’s jawline, marking every exposed skin Freen could possibly offer.

She said every inch.

So, she’ll claim every inch.

She proceeded down to her neck as she started to guide Freen’s hips to grind. Freen obeys her queen as Becky puts another mark at the spot between her collar bones.

Freen’s breath hitched as she feels Becky’s arm snake on her back, working on unclasping her bra. And unlike their first time, she easily unhooked them, finally releasing Freen’s mounds and discarding it somewhere. Freen reached for Becky’s leather jacket when she was stopped, a hand capturing her wrist.

“I thought I told you that only I get to touch you today,” Becky says, taking her wrists once again.

“B-Becbec, please,” Freen moans, seeking the warmth of her skin.

Becky smirked and shifted Freen sideways, laying her down the couch, pinning her wrist above her head. Becky leans back up to remove her jacket and slowly unbuttons her crisp satin blouse. With one hand, her slender fingers worked on her blouse while the other traces the dips and the curves of Freen’s body, tracing her toned abs, up to her plump mounds, pinching its peak. It was torture for Freen not to just reach out and tear the buttons off Becky’s shirt, but she knew better than to disobey her queen.

So Freen waits.

Patiently.

Painfully.

She watched as Becky worked her thumb and index finger pinch the buttons free, one after the other.

‘How on earth could her fingers be that fucking slender? It’s insane!’ She gulped as Becky finally discards her satin, revealing her smooth, porcelain skin.

Freen didn’t get the chance to ogle as Becky leans back down, teeth and tongue clashing as she mercilessly claim Freen’s lips once more, biting her lower lip, then soothing it again with a flick of her tongue. She kneads Freen’s left mound while her right hand pinned Freen’s wrist above, supporting her weight.

She draws the kisses back to her previous marked places, tracing her bites, soothing them with rolls of her tongue. She trails down to the crook of her neck, at the spot behind her ear.

“Mine,” she said, her voice low and husky as she grinds down, and places another rough knead on Freen’s mound, rolling the peak between her fingers.

“Hmm… all yours,” Freen moaned in her delirium, already feeling the pool at the bottom of her spine. She was not used to being touched, but for Becky, she willingly surrendered.

Freen feels the young actress smirk against her skin as she worked her way down to her collar bone, tracing the mark she made in between with another flick of her tongue. She places more kisses until she reached her sternum, placing another mark in between her mounds. Then, finally, she claims the peak her left hand has been working on, flicking, rolling her tongue as she hears strangled moans and grunts from the expert beneath her.

“Holy—fuck,” Freen says, her breath hitched, her stomach tensed to the point that she almost sat down. She feels Becky’s tongue lay flat on her peak, laying her back down the couch, while her hand cups her mound as if to accentuate it.

“Relax, baby,” Becky says smugly, her voice low and husky.

Then, Becky turns her attention to the other, sucking her, licking as her peak hardens. She sucked it, then she rolls her tongue on her stiff as she continuously grinds in between Freen.

Curses upon curses echoed through the office walls as Freen was reduced to a heaping mess by the young actress towering above her.

With one swift motion, Becky removes the one last clothing they had. Becky’s jeans landed on one of the curved monitors on Freen’s desk while their underwear crumpled just behind the potted plant beside the couch.

Becky paused for a while, raking Freen’s body, tracing her curves and dips, her toned abs and her tanned skin. Feeling insecure, Freen tried to cover herself only for her wrists to once again be pinned above.

Leaning down, Becky once again settled at the at the spot below Freen’s ears, “You are so, so beautiful, teerak,” she whispered, ghost of her breath lingered, earning another goosebumps all throughout Freen’s body. “Don’t you dare hide this gem from me.”

Her fingers traced Freen’s figure once more, settling between her thighs, caressing them. Then, Becky moved her hand down, grabbing Freen’s ass, pulling her closer as she grinds harder, feeling Freen’s slick smearing on her pubic mound.

“So wet for me already, hm?” Becky says in between her ministrations on Freen’s mounds.

“Shit, Bec—hmm… are you sure this is your first time?” Freen asks breathlessly, her hips now grinding with Becky’s touch.

Becky looks up and chuckles at Freen’s question. “Of course, love. I’m just so possessive of you now that I can’t help but to mark every inch of you.”

She dives back into one of Freen’s peak as her hands wanders on Freen’s inner thigh, caressing it. Then she glides up, finally touching her wet folds. They both moan upon contact as Becky plays with the length of Freen’s slit, gathering as much moisture as she can before her slender fingers play with Freen’s heated core.

Her index and middle fingers, same ones that unbuttoned her shirt, started rolling, fiddling with Freen’s core while Becky swallows her moans and grunts with her kisses. Freen grinds as she chased the pressure of Becky’s fingers, craving the contact, dancing with the rhythm Becky has set.

“I will now,” Becky says, leaning back up, “slither in,” she hisses with a smirk.

Freen furrowed her brows, confused, “Wha— hmm…”

Her question faded into moans as she felt Becky’s two lithe fingers glide down, entering her abruptly. Freen’s breath hitched, closing her eyes, reeling the sensation of Becky inside her.

She held Becky’s wrist, “B-Bec, hold on,” as she winces from the sudden intrusion.

“Freen? Why—” then, Becky’s eyes widened, realization dawning on her, “I-Is this your first time, too?”

“Y-Yes,” Freen said reluctantly.

“B-But I thought— I thought you—Oh god I’m so sorry for assuming, baby.”

“I-It’s okay, my queen.” Freen says, reaching Becky, cupping her cheeks. “I-I just don’t really let… others… touch me at all. Only you. I’m only yours.”

Becky’s gaze softened. Her fingers still inside Freen, she carefully leaned down and kissed the expert, down to her mounds, taking them on her mouth, sucking them. And when Freen started rolling her hips, she started thrusting upon her, pumping her digits in and out.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot while you squirm for me like that,” Becky says, her hand busy with pumping and rubbing Freen at a slow, agonizing pace. “You’re all mine.”

Still with Freen’s eyes closed, “Look at me,” Becky commands.

Freen tries but fails to obey once again as she so desperately grinds on Becky’s fingers, her eyes rolling at the back of her head.

So, Becky stopped.

Freen whined, “Bec—why—”

“I told you to look at me.” Becky’s tone was once again commanding. So, Freen looked.

“Good girl,” Becky purred, continuing her pumps in and out of Freen.

Freen tries so hard to maintain their eye contact, trying not to roll her eyes again in pure ecstasy. Freen rolls her hips more, and Becky got the hint, gradually quickening her pace, thrusts are met in the middle as Freen grinds into the touch.

“Fuck—shit—Bec, faster… please, baby” Freen moans as her body flushes with the pleasure. Becky pushes through, her wrist starting to numb but she thrusted faster, deeper into Freen, feeling the walls tightening around her fingers.

“Baby, p-please don’t stop,” Freen moans breathlessly, as she opens her thighs as wide as the couch permits.

Becky raised her right leg, slotting it on the top of her shoulders as she angles her thrust deeper, her fingers curling inside the spot below Freen’s clit, her other hand then went back to playing with Freen’s peak.

And just like that, Freen started convulsing, her legs spasming. Becky’s fingers get more soaked as more of Freen’s slick flows out of her. Slowing down her ministrations, she let Freen ride her waves until Freen’s thighs clamped.

Just as Freen’s breathing even out, Becky shifted farther into the couch and leans down. She sees Becky in between her thighs, kissing them until she reached her center.

“Baby, I—”

Her protests were once again drowned by her moans as she feels the flat of Becky’s tongue lap her wet folds, drinking her slick, one lick after another.

“Oh God—fuck—you’re doing me so good,” Freen squirms once again beneath Becky’s touch as she feels her tongue rolling on her core while sucking it.

Becky hummed, causing even more vibrations between Freen’s legs as she rolled her eyes, closing it.

After a few lapping and sucking minutes, Freen was undone once again.

Becky reached out to her, clashing their lips once again. Freen tasting herself with Becky’s kisses as they try to even their heartbeats.

She settles between the valley of Freen’s chest, listening to Freen’s slowing heartbeat.

Then, Freen lets out a laugh. Real, unadulterated laugh.

Becky lifted her head to face the expert, her eyes amused, smile tugging her lips, “Why are you laughing?”

“Really, Becbec?” Freen’s stomach now vibrating with her laugh, “Slither in? That was witty as fuck. Oh God.”

And then, Becky settles back between Freen’s chest as their laugh turns into comfortable silence.

After a while, Freen breaks the silence with clearing of her throat, as if gathering courage to what she was about to say.

“Please be mine, Becbec,” Becky hears a crack on Freen’s voice, guarded, restrained.

“I’m already yours, Freen.”

A pause, as if to gather more courage as she can get, Freen finally voices it out.

“Please be my girlfriend,” she says, her voice faltering but strong.

Becky looked up. She sees the longing on Freen’s eyes, the quiet surrender but loud heartbeats as to whatever Becky will answer.

Then, a smile. And a nod.

“I’ll be your girlfriend,” Becky finally says.

Four words.

Four exchanges.

It was four words that broke Freen few days before.

And four very different words broke her differently now.

But at the middle of it all, same person—Becky.

It will always be Becky.

Chapter Text

The Ancient Greeks believed that humans used to have four legs, four hands, and two faces. When Prometheus and Athena shaped them from clays, they made them as thinking individuals, capable of knowledge, learning, and growth. But when Prometheus gave the humans the knowledge of fire, they worshiped the gods less. With his wrath, Zeus chained Prometheus to a rock on Mount Caucasus, with an eagle eating his way to his liver, only for it to regenerate overnight.

With humans, Zeus saw them as a threat, capable of destroying Olympus brick by brick, like he did with his father’s throne. For the humans are now able to brave the dark with the flicker of light on their hands.

So, Zeus broke all the humans in half, for he was scared of the increasingly formidable power they hold. He tore them, knowing they would feel empty, hollow, that they would search for the one they lost, hoping, longing, praying for someone they might never find.

But for Becky, it felt like she finally found hers. No, not in a tacky way that the Catholics call their spouse that they would eventually divorce, no.

What she found was someone with whom she could carry all the burdens with ease, who could lift her up and ground her at the same time. Because with Freen, she finally felt whole, complete, utterly and entirely unbroken.

For the first time in her life, Becky felt so sure about the decision she made when she agreed to be Freen’s. It felt so easy, so right.

Her head still pressed against Freen’s chest, still panting with how she claimed the expert so thoroughly when Freen broke the silence of the room.

“I realized I haven’t really courted you yet,” her voice was low, still husky from earlier. “And yet I already had the audacity to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

Becky chuckles, “I told you, you didn’t need to.” She lifted her head to meet Freen’s gaze and leaned in for a kiss.

“I’m already yours the moment I kissed you on that balcony. Hearing you say those words, you made me realize how I should value myself more even when I feel so small with humiliation.” Becky reached out to hold Freen’s face, tracing slow circles on her cheek.

“I love you, my queen,” Freen’s voice cracking. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“I love you too, teerak.”

And just like that, the world outside the confines of Freen’s office seems to vanish as their lips clash in another languid kiss. Not breaking the kiss, Becky shifts, now straddling Freen as she presses herself more, as if she wants to crawl under her girlfriend’s very skin.

“Baby, can I touch you now?” Freen asked between their kisses.

Becky nods.

“I need words, my love.”

“Yes, you can, baby,” Becky says, her heart racing again.

Just then, Freen deepens the kiss, sucking, biting, and soothing Becky’s lower lips until a moan escaped from the artist. She traces her kisses to Becky’s jaws, down to her neck, still very careful not to put a mark the actress.

Even though she wanted to claim Becky in the ways that Becky did with her, she knows she can’t—at least not yet. So, with all the self-restraint she had to not suck and bite her girlfriend’s porcelain skin, she travels further down her clavicle, to her sternum.

Then, she lays her tongue flat on Becky’s stiff peak, rolling, sucking, and still very carefully, her hand softly kneads the other, fingers rolling and pinching its peak.

Then, Freen laid back down again, her hands on Becky’s behind, carefully guiding it up her hips… up her stomach… up.

“F-Freen, what are you—” Becky says between heavy breaths as Freen roughly squeezes her ass.

“Time to sit on your throne, my queen,” Freen says, smirking as she aligns her face on Becky’s center.

Becky’s breath hitched as she understood what Freen meant. She gently follows, with Freen guiding her while she holds onto the backrest of the couch, supporting her movement. She looks down to see Freen’s dark eyes over her center.

The moment Freen’s hot tongue touched her core, Becky swore her mind went blank. Her knees nearly gave out just by a flick of her tongue but Freen’s languid onslaught on her center didn’t stop.

She lapped Becky like a starved puppy, drinking all she can from the actress’s folds, tracing infinites with her tongue while sucking her core. She grabs her ass, squeezing it, supporting her as she grinds on Freen’s face.

Freen opens her mouth to breathe just a second and runs her tongue down Becky’s slit, down to her entrance, circling it, teasing her queen while she pressed down her clutches, urging Becky to grind more.

Freen settles her tongue in between Becky’s entrance and core, circling the space in between, as if choosing where to attack next. In a decisive move, she slides further down—

“Oh, f-fuck, Freen,” Becky moans. She felt Freen’s tongue enter her, exploring her inside, deeper than she could possibly have thought.

“Oh—God—h-how long is your tongue?!” Becky exclaimed breathlessly, trying her best to power through her wobbly knees, her head rolled back in ecstasy. She feels Freen smirk in between her ministrations, as if proud of what she was doing.

Then, Freen shifted, one moment, her tongue inside her, then, out—flicking on her core.

“F-fuck—s-shit—oh God baby… you’re not only eating me,” Becky grabs Freen’s hair, grinding down even more. “Y-You’re devouring me! Hmm…”

Freen continued thrusting in and out of her, flicking her bud occasionally, stretching her tongue to thrust deeper. Then, after a few strokes, she settles back on her core, sucking it, slowly tracing another set of infinities on it when suddenly—

“F-Freen, w-what—oh God,” Becky moans, her eyes disappearing, closing them as she feels two fingers enter her. She presses the expert even more to her pubic mound, feeling the fingers pump agonizingly slow, matching the pace of Freen’s tongue.

“Baby… p-please,” Becky grinds faster.

She felt even more vibrations as Freen hummed while sucking her core. She feels Freen trace the symbol faster, the pressure of her sucking intensified as she quickened the rhythm of her fingers.

“F-Freen… hmm… b-baby… f-faster please,” the actress pleads, hastening her grinding even more.

And on her queen’s command, Freen sped up her ministrations. Still sucking, she circles Becky’s core while her hand begins to blur as she slowly accelerated inside Becky, her fingers curling at Becky’s spot.

“F-Fuck… just like that, hmm,” Becky says, one of her hands now playing with one of her peaks, while the other still clutched on Freen’s hair.

“I-I’m near… fuck—fucking—s-shit—Freen!”

Freen could feel tightening walls around her fingers as her wrist burns, disappearing inside her queen. She circled Becky’s core, her tongue a blur of circles and infinities. Freen hasn’t been able to breathe for a while now, especially when Becky grabbed her hair and grinded down.

Freen wasn’t about to complain. If she dies, it would be the best way to go.

But just as she was about to run out of oxygen, she feels Becky’s legs spasm, her thighs tightening around Freen’s face, fingers even more soaked on Becky as she slows down her ministrations. For a second, she was able to breathe when Becky adjusted her position.

With her knees trembling, Becky was about to go down when Freen’s hands clutched her, chasing her core. She feels Freen lapping her again, drinking all of her while her fingers still continue with slow thrusts, still riding waves after waves of ecstasy.

Becky weakly moved down next to Freen when she saw the expert smirking, wiping the remnants on her face with her thumb before sucking her fingers one by one.

"Hmm, guava.” Freen smacks her lips as she tasted Becky once more. “I’m not gonna waste a drop of your blessings, baby,” Freen said smugly. “You nearly killed me there,” she teased.

“What?” Becky says, still catching her breath.

Freen kissed her, just a peck. “I said, you nearly killed me,” she chuckles. “I couldn’t breathe for a while,” she says as she drew her closer, Becky settling on the crook of her neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Becky coos. Then, she lightly slaps her arm, “It’s your fault! You asked me to sit!”

Freen laughed, hugging her girlfriend tighter, “I know, baby. And if I did die, it would have been the best way to go,” she said, smiling like an idiot which earned an eye roll and blush from the actress.

--

The soft glow of the dusk luminates Freen’s office by the time Becky stirred awake. They were still lying on the couch, her back pressed against the backrest. Freen’s arms draped around her as she studies the sleeping figure beneath her.

Freen is gorgeous. Plain and simple. Her sharp jawline relaxed with sleep, mouth slightly open with her soft snores. Her nose standing tall, marks of her glasses from years of wearing them can be faintly seen and her lashes fanned beautifully on her blushed cheeks.

Becky could feel an overwhelming surge of pride in her heart as she closely memorizes the face of her girlfriend. Tracing her jaws, her hand settles, cupping it and placing feathery kisses all over Freen’s face.

That woke Freen up with a smile.

“Hmm, baby,” Freen chuckles, still groggy with sleep. “Hello to you, too.”

In between her kisses, “I can’t get enough of you, baby,” Becky shifts, straddling Freen once more, still continuing with her assault. “You’re mine, and mine alone. Got that?”

Freen chuckles, “I think every inch of me got that, my queen—”

They were interrupted from their little bubble when series of knocks was made at Freen’s office door.

“Freen, I swear if you don’t crawl out of your hole, I will barge in!” It was Nam, shaking the knob of the door, trying to pry it open. “Becky has been looking for you the whole day! Stop sulking and talk to her!”

They immediately scrambled on their feet, as if their touch burned them.

“Bec, where are my clothes?” Freen whispered, panic evident in her voice.

“I don’t remember! I just tossed them somewhere,” Becky said, equally panicked. “Turn on the lights!”

“Freen I swear I will break this door! Open up!” Nam says on the other side.

“Nam! I’m fine! J-Just wait for a moment!” Freen says, as she scrambles to put on her slacks that was pooled beneath the couch.

She turns to Becky, “Where’s my bra—oh for fuck’s sake, you know what—” she clapped, and soft lights flickered throughout the office. “There it—how did it get here, Becs?!” she implored on a whisper while reaching her undergarment on one of the framed paintings on the wall.

“Who are you talking to? Are you hallucinating?” Nam asked, “I can hear you talking, Freen!”

“J-Just, wait a sec, okay?!” Freen shouted, still scrambling to put on her shirt.

Becky just chuckled. She was fully dressed now, fixing her leather jacket as if nothing ever happened.

“How did you—you know what, never mind.” Freen sighs, straightening her blue R2D2 shirt. Sighing, she takes a step towards Becky, reaching for her hand. “Would you like Nam to know about us?” she asked. “Would you be comfortable if she knows?”

Becky thought it through. Then, she nodded. “I’m scared, Freen.” Her voice was trembling, “But yes, I think she basically knows about us since I pestered her the whole time you ghosted me.”

“I didn’t ghost—” Freen started but was immediately silenced by a sharp glare from the star. Sighing a resignation, “Are you sure, my love?”

“Yes, I am. As long as you’re with me.” Becky says, leaning in for a quick peck. “Let’s go?”

Hand in hand, they walked through the door, opening it, revealing Nam.

“What took you so long—” Nam’s eyes widened when she saw Becky trailing behind Freen, then, a smirk. “So, Becky, tasks, huh?” she turns to Freen, “And I suppose the angry red marks all over your neck is, what, a bug bite?”

Freen’s eyes widened. She immediately covered her neck in a futile attempt to hide Becky’s marks and curses herself for forgetting to wear the hoodie that’s crumpled on the floor. She reached down to grab it and slides it on.

Expecting the actress to be as speechless as she was, she was surprised when fits of giggles erupted from Becky, her arms wrapping around Freen’s waist.

“P’Nam, meet my girlfriend.” Becky says with her underbite, all four of her dimples are shown. “And those aren’t bug bites. Those are my bites,” she said proudly, as if showing a trophy she won on a contest.

Freen wished the earth would split open and swallow her whole, not from humiliation but from the brashness of the young actress, now hugging her from behind.

Nam rolls her eyes, “Alright, love birds, come on!” Dragging both of them by the wrists, “Dinner!” she turns to Freen, “Your treat! I’ll gather everyone and. You. Will. Tell. Us. Everything!” Nam says, every syllable emphasized.

Becky turns to Freen and Nam, “Can I also ask my cousin to join us?” Then, Becky turned to the expert, “I’d love to finally introduce her to you, baby.”

Still with her tomato-face, Freen just nodded while they rode the elevator down to the lobby.

As they step out of the elevator, Freen held Becky’s hands back.

“

My heart, my soul

My body, my mind

Are yours, all

To take, and to bind

For you are not the spark that ignited

The rhymes and lyrics in my head

But you are the passion that burned

The urge to write the unwritten thoughts that turned

” 

“Nam, can you go ahead? We’ll just meet you at Nusara. I’ll just have to talk to Becky,” Freen called out which earned a nod from Nam.

“Alright, see you there,” Nam waving them goodbye.

Then she gently pulled Becky on one of the indoor swings that was tucked at the corner of the lobby, “Baby, are you really sure you’re ready to tell people about us? I know it must be terrifying for you since…”

Becky stopped her with a peck on her lips, “Yes, teerak. I might be scared since I am not fully out of the closet yet, and yes, I am terrified of the possible scrutiny we might face, but at least I could freely be with you when I’m with Irin and your people, too.”

Freen’s gaze softened, “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, my love. I will wait for you to gain that courage, not to drag you out in the open before you’re ready,” Freen said, her thumb tracing Becky’s knuckles. “So, I’m asking you once again, are you sure?”

Becky’s gaze softens, “Yes, baby. I’m sure. As long as you’re by my side, everything will be alright.”

“Good, because I want to make your everything alright. But now, I will accept that we have to act like nothing’s going on between us when we’re outside. That's what I have contemplated the past few days, on how it would be if we continue with... us. And I have come to terms with that until you're ready.”

“But—”

“I know, baby.” Freen lets out a sad smile, “I know it will be hard, but this is to protect you. I don’t want anyone to say bad things to you, especially when your fans believe that Janus should be with you.”

“Baby, Janus—”

“Means nothing to you, I know that.” Freen tried to mask it but a crack in her voice gave it away. “But I also know how much your career means to you, too. And whether we like it or not, he is tied to it. I won’t ever make you choose between that and this,” she raised their intertwined hands with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Becky says, her eyes brimming with tears threatening to spill. "But I swear I'm getting there. Please, please be patient with me."

“Shh, it’s okay.” Freen coos her, wiping her tears with her free hand. “It’s okay. I know and understand what I signed up for when I asked you to be my girlfriend. I understand you, baby. You still have your career ahead of you. You have yet to reach your highest peak, and I’ll be with you, as long as you let me to.

“I’ll smile on the sidelines and be proud of you in the shadows. Even if you introduce me as your friend, I’ll be there for you.” Freen places feathery kisses on Becky’s knuckles, trying to ease Becky’s shaking. “It’s okay, my love. Because what’s important is that we both know we’re more than that.”

And for the first time, Becky felt it, the ease, the comfort, the fulfilment—all the things she wished when she wished she had someone to share those with. She felt heard, understood, without trying hard to explain her side.

For the first time, Becky realized why Zeus was so threatened that he had to break humans in half. For this feeling? It’s formidable. It’s invincible. It’s whole.

Prometheus didn’t just make both of them as one. Because when she met Freen, she felt like Prometheus himself gave Becky the very fire that made humans unafraid of the dark.

And Freen? She made Becky feel like she could do anything as long as they were with each other.

Little by little, she is gaining the courage—the courage to speak up.

Little by little, she's gaining the courage to just be herself, be Becky.

Like cupping droplets of water slowly trickling down the condensations of the morning leaves. It will take a long time, yes, but eventually, it’ll be enough for a mouthful.

Because this kind of love? It deserves to be screamed to the world.

Because this kind of love didn’t just spark.

Like the fire, through the darkness, it burned.

Chapter Text

They went out of Diversity Tech separately, Freen trailing Becky after 10 minutes. Nodding at Zee with a knowing look, she waves her goodbye as she exits the building. She slid back to her Eco Sport, pressing play for the song left unfinished this morning.

“Show yourself, I’m dying to meet you

Show yourself, it’s your turn.

Are you the one I’ve been looking for all of my life?

Show yourself, I’m ready to learn.”

Freen sits there, taking in the song that was supposed to be from a children’s movie but somehow, very, very weirdly fits how she longed for a connection with Becky.

Turning the ignition, she’s headed towards Nusara, her head still reeling with the events of the day. Because… because…

REBECCA PATRICIA ARMSTRONG IS NOW HER GIRLFRIEND!

What the actual fuck? She doesn’t even know how that happened! Her head swam with the haze of everything they did. Is this really true? Isn’t she dreaming?

No, she must not be. Because at the same time, Becky is also on her way towards Nusara, braving herself to meet Freen’s squad, who, by the way, witnessed every unhinged delusion she had, putting up with Freen’s smug face, always saying that their fates will intersect again without putting up an effort for it.

And Nam!

God bless Nam!

At first, she didn’t know how Freen knew Becky and yet, there she was, the oblivious bridge that brought them together! It was because she stumbled upon her on Mind’s club when Nam saw her at the balcony, solving some triangle angles she saw online.

“Who brings a pen and a paper at a club to,” Nam takes a peak at what she was writing, “solve triangle angles?” she approached with a look of disbelief at what was Freen working on.

“Well, I saw a post that said the angles cannot be solved but, eh,” she waves her hand, cigarette clutching between her fingers. “It was just basic geometry and algebra after all,” she said, crumpling the paper and tossing it somewhere. “Answer’s 95, 45, 40.”

That was where they hit it off. No, not in a way that Freen would always hit on people. It was an instant friendship for them, with Freen happily discussing how much she loved logic and math.

Nam, on the other hand, told her about a gig she was on and in need of an expert that could teach basic encryption and asked if she could operate a Turing Machine, which, of course, was a very, very interesting subject that Freen stumbled on one time she researched about the Father of Computer Science.

By the end of the night, she was offered the gig and a month later, Nam just told her to come at the restaurant where she would teach Nam’s co-workers, as she said. It didn’t help that Nam also started dating Mind, so, basically, that was when Nam knew Freen’s thing for Becky. Which probably why Nam would just smile suspiciously every time Freen asked what her job was.

Mind just can’t shut the fuck up sometimes.

In no time, she parked in front of Nusara, Ate Iris’s restaurant. It was at the Chef’s insistence that they hold the ‘meeting’ there since she had her own private space.

By the time she parked outside the restaurant, elegant lights and atmosphere welcomed her. It was one of the busiest restaurants in Bangkok and how Iris managed to pull that off was beyond Freen. But since she decided to follow Freen in Thailand after Nanang died, they’ve been each other’s support and pillar throughout the years.

She slides out of her car and approaches the manager.

“Are they here yet?” Freen asks, the manager leads her to the private space.

“Chef Iris, Miss Nam, Miss Mind and—” the manager was interrupted when Freen felt someone hug her waist, jumping on her.

“Baby,” Becky said, melting on Freen as she hugged her from the back. “I missed you,” she said with a pout.  They were along the private corridor leading to Iris’s space.

Freen chuckles, “Love, it hasn’t been an hour since we left Diversity. What are you talking about?”

“Why? Am I not allowed to miss you?” Becky’s brows furrowed. Sulking.

Freen cupped her cheek and leaned in for a kiss. “Don’t sulk, my love. I missed you as well.”

“Oh God, what have I walked in on?” says a voice behind them, in between amusement and mock disgust.

“Irin!” Becky says excitedly, recognizing her cousin’s arrival. “Look!” she intertwined her hand with Freen’s and enthusiastically lifted it while pointing at it with her other hand.

Irin rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She turned her gaze into Freen as she passes them by, “Hello, Ted Bundy.”

Freen tilted her head towards her girlfriend, furrowing her brows. “What is she talking about?”

Becky giggles, “It’s nothing. I might have told her that you led me into the dark woods.”

“Wha—I didn’t murder you!”

“Yeah but you murdered my—”

Freen covered her mouth, her eyes bulging out of its sockets while looking around, ears flushed like tomatoes. “Oh my God, shh! And I thought I was gentle!?”

Becky let out a laugh seeing how flustered her girlfriend was. “I was just messing with you, teerak.”

They turned and started walking towards the door at the end of the corridor where Irin was waiting.

The moment they were inside, they were received by soft clinking of glasses and noisy chatter of the group before them. When the door opened, all of them turned and greeted the three who entered.

“So, are you gonna introduce us, Sarocha? Or should we just introduce ourselves,” the only guy of the group spoke with a teasing tone and a raised eyebrow.

Freen cleared her throat, a blush slowly creeps into her ears once more.

“Guys, this is Becky—”

“Oh, we know. You made sure that we know who she is, Freen,” says one of the girls, her long blue hair cascaded into her shoulders, her mouth twitched into a smirk while wriggling her eyebrows.

“Shut it, Mind,” says the one wearing a chef’s uniform, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Freen coughed into the room again, “We’re with guests, be civil,” she said, her playful tone betraying the stern warning she gave.

“So, baby—I mean Becky,” she shot a sharp glaze at the group when she felt their teasing gazes and their smirks, effectively shutting them up before they banter again with her slip up.

“This is my cousin, Henry Mackenzie,” she directed her gaze at the tall man wearing a crisp button-up shirt, top button undone, clearly relaxed after coming from work.

“Full name talaga, Sarocha?” The guy says, then, switching back to English, “Hi, Becky. I’ve heard lots of things about you,” he smiled warmly, his hand extended and Becky took it with the same warm smile. “And dear God, Saro, don’t call me with my full name! It makes me think I’m in trouble,” he turned to Becky, “Just call me Mac.”

“That’s Ate Saro for you, Mac!” Freen says with mock offense, “And you know Nam,” Freen referred to the producer which Becky reached for a hug. “She is the blabbermouth that made this dinner possible.”

“Well, we gotta celebrate! And I’m sorry but you won’t get to be alone with the Rebecca Armstrong for the night.” Nam smirked, “Not like you didn’t do what you had to—”

“Okay!” Freen cuts her off, blush clearly creeping back again, this time, Becky’s cheeks joined the fray. “And this is Mind, she was my first friend when I transferred here in Thailand to finish my final year for undergrad.”

“First and only friend,” the girl with the blue hair softly hugged Becky’s side. “That nerd is one tough nut to crack. I’m surprised she attracted you,” she said with a warm tone, slightly teasing.

Becky giggled. “Well, that, she is. But what can I say? She stormed into that restaurant conference room and suddenly, I’m gay.”

The group laughed, light atmosphere surrounds them as they get acquainted with each other.

All, except one.

The Chef was looking daggers at Becky, her lips were still pressed so thin that artists would draw it in a stroke.

And Becky noticed.

The way her brows furrowed, the warmth of the group clearly not radiated on her.

“Is that what you told your family that night, here in my restaurant?” Her voice cuts like the sharp knife she holds every day.

“Iris,” Freen’s voice was low—a warning.

Becky’s smile faltered. Guilt once again rushed onto her like a truck too fast to swerve.

“I know it was wrong to deny Freen like that,” she said, gently. Too gently. But her gaze never left the chef’s eyes. “And I will atone for what I did every day as long as Freen lets me. I could tell you lots of reasons why I said that but only one matters. I was a coward. Plain and simple. I’m not going to give you lame excuses, but I promise you, I’m working on it. I’ll gather my courage one agonizing drop at a time, until I could shout to the world how much she means to me.”

Iris hummed, still skeptical, still doubting, but then, she lets out a nod—a chance.

“It was nice to finally meet the girl Freen won’t shut up about,” Iris finally lets out a smile, extending her arm towards Becky for a truce. “Even while drunk and asleep, she still mutters your name like a prayer.”

Becky accepted, then looked at the expert with a smirk. “Really? Do tell!”

Freen groaned. “Oh God. Just go back to being stoic, will you?”

Then, a quiet cough silenced the room.

“Uhm, since my cousin was too flustered and occupied to meet all of you, I’m just gonna introduce myself. Hi,” she looked at each and every one of them, “I’m Irin, Becky’s neglected cousin.”

“Oh shit—yeah I forgot!” Becky immediately grabbed Irin on the small of her back, “Guys, this is Irin, I hope you didn’t mind that I brought her with me tonight. I wanted to share the news with her, too.”

The group finally settled back down towards the plush couch they once occupied. Irin sat down beside Mac while the couple remained standing.

“So, guys,” Freen cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the lump forming on it. “T-This… uhm… w-we…”

“We’re a couple!” Becky says, cutting off Freen’s stutter. “The nerd finally asked me to be her girlfriend!”

The group erupted with cheers of ‘At fucking last’s and ‘Oh my God you’re in a relationship with a celebrity’s. Hugs and pats on the back greeted the couple.

“But we’re keeping it lowkey.” Freen says after the celebration died down. “I know, I know,” she said, answering the look that their friends were making. “It’s my decision to do so. I’ve contemplated about it the past few days and I can’t risk Becky’s fans finding out, at least not yet. She’s just starting her career, and I don’t want her to ruin it for me.”

“And what did you say about this?” Iris turned to Becky and asked, her voice cold once more.

“I protested. But Freen won’t hear it.” The actress now staring at the floor. “I want to at least tell some of my friends on the business, though, the ones I can trust and go from there. As much as it pains me, I… I also wanted to keep Freen a secret—just for now,” she said too fast, feeling the incredulous look that the group was giving her.

“I want to protect her privacy for as long as I could. Unfortunately, some of the fans cannot and will not separate my private life from the business. I wouldn’t want to subject Freen from all of the mess that my world makes. But I promise you all, I will make it clear that Becky Armstrong is definitely no longer available.”

And with that, a sigh of relief enveloped the room. Nam, with her quirkiness, started to pour drinks on the empty glasses.

“What are we waiting for?! Let’s celebrate the dork and whatever she put on Becky's food to make her fall!”

Freen's protest and Becky's giggles were drowned by the group's "Hear, hear!"

“Nam! Don’t drain my private collection!” Iris protested.

“Oh, don’t worry, Freen will replenish it!” Nam smirked then winked at Freen. “I think whatever you have here, Mind has a stock on her bar anyways.”

Freen only rolled her eyes in surrender, “Yeah, yeah, go nuts.”

Right there and then, the party started. Stories were exchanged, how Mac’s lunch was interrupted by a very angry client, how Irin’s case took an unexpected turn at the court when the witness slipped the interrogation, how Freen’s client earlier asked her if she knows his Facebook password.

“So, a little bird told me that Freen’s office is not as… holy anymore.” Mind started teasing somewhere between their second drinks, “I assume that those angry red spots on Freen are not mosquito bites?”

Freen choked on her scotch, which burned, really burned. While Becky giggled sheepishly. “Not if you call me a mosquito,” she said while wriggling her eyebrows.

“You’re a menace,” Freen says in fake exasperation, wiping the scotch on her nose.

“I’m your menace.”

“Oh, God, save me from these two,” Irin rolled her eyes while nursing her third samosa.

They continued with their banter through the night. Freen and Becky are on their little bubble, still clutching their second drinks, free hands clasp each other.

The night deepens as the group slowly gets intoxicated. Freen went out of the restaurant’s balcony, enjoying the crisp Bangkok air, just looking at the city lights below.

Freen thinks about the possible implications of their relationship, of how it will affect Becky and the career she’s so passionate about. She lights out a cigarette, taking a long drag, letting the mint settle first before puffing it out.

She never wants to make Becky choose. She has seen how dedicated the actress is with her work, that it wasn’t just something she does for a living, but something she does to be alive.

If push comes to shove, no matter how painful it will be, she will choose for her.

Taking another drag, she thinks that even the actress says otherwise, she will never be Freen’s alone, that she will always have to share whether with her fans or with whatever on-screen partner Becky’s future holds.

But some deep, ugly feeling resurfaces, that selfish feeling that wants the actress all by herself, to fully own her. But she knows her limits, about how she is still not deserving of the girl, how big of a gap they still have, and about how she can’t see their relationship being out.

Thousands of insecurities linger at the back of her mind, forcing herself to lock it, tuck it away on some part of her brain and just to savor every moment she could have with Becky.

Freen was let out of her thoughts when she heard the balcony door open. Becky found her with brows furrowed as if she was deep in thought, nestling a stick.

“You know, as much as I find it so hot when you smoke,” Becky says as she walks towards her, “I don’t like what it does to your health,” scrunching her nose with her disapproval.

Freen smiles and immediately crushes the cigarette on the nearby ashtray.

“Sorry, my queen. It won’t happen again.”

Becky smiles at the gesture, “Penny for your thoughts?” she says, sliding an arm on the expert’s waist, hugging her from behind.

Freen chuckled low and husky, “Oh you really don’t want that,” her second drink still on her hands, slowing down as the group’s designated driver.

Becky whined. “Tell me what you think, please?” her head nudged deeper between Freen’s shoulder blades.

“Are you sure?” The expert let out a sigh close to a chuckle. “It is very unhinged.”

She feels the actress nod through her back.

“Alright.” Freen begins to laugh, “I was wondering why people call it hemorrhoids, not ass-teroids,” Freen laughs, a carefree sound, too carefree.

A silence.

Then, “Oh God,” Becky let out a groan, “What did I just get myself into,” she said, her eyes rolling, but a small tug on her lips betrayed her.

“I told you it’s unhinged.” Freen says with a chuckle.

Another silence.

Then, Becky laughed.

Really laughed.

“Assteroids. God, you’re too witty for your own good.”

She laughed, the teary-kind, the kind that almost lets out a little pee.

The kind of laugh that lights the place up even at night.

And Freen’s heart fluttered with the melody.

She turned around and faced Becky, hugged her back tightly. Too tightly that it caught Becky off guard.

“That’s the sound I don’t ever want to stop hearing,” Freen says quietly, nuzzling her nose on the actress’s neck. “And I always hope I would be the reason for most.”

Then, Freen lifts her head only to find Becky already staring at her. Despite the darkness of the night and the dim lights of the balcony, Becky could still see the golden flecks on Freen’s eyes. Those eyes that seemed to always hold a ton of emotions at their swirling orbs.

Then, Freen cupped her cheeks.

“I love you, Becky,” she says with the same intensity as her eyes hold, all of the sincerity and honesty poured on her voice.

Becky smiles, leaning forward to capture Freen’s lips on a chaste and gentle kiss.

“I love you too, baby.”

Then, Freen shifted, gently leading Becky in front to stare at the city lights below. Hugging from behind, Freen gently nestled her head on Becky’s shoulder, just enjoying each other’s warmth.

After their get-together, Becky insisted that they go to Freen’s place and stay the night. She wasted no time and was not about to make a mistake not knowing where the expert lives this time, in case she pulls the same stunt again and disappears off the map.

As they settled through the night, Becky relaxes with one of Freen’s Hufflepuff hoodies and a pair of sleeping shorts. They talked through the night about absolutely anything they could think of, while nestled on each other’s comfort, not knowing when they fell asleep, just knowing they fell asleep with each other’s warmth.

A quiet recluse.

A quiet pocket of space where they can be with each other.

Where they can be each other’s.

Unapologetically.

Unabashedly.

Just for a while.

Because they know, they will still hold on.

Even while the world lets go.

Chapter Text

The sun was beginning to peek through the horizon by the time Becky woke up. Nestling a hangover, she finds herself buried between Freen’s chest, their limbs still tangled beneath the sheets.

As Becky stirs, looking at how peaceful her girlfriend was during the morning. She still cannot quite believe that she was waking up with Freen cuddled next to her. Her sharp jaw that’s usually tense was relaxed to the point that it made her mouth hang a little loose, showing her bunny teeth. She tucks a lock of stray hair behind Freen’s ear as she buries herself deep into Freen’s neck, hugging the expert tighter, which woke her up.

“Good morning, baby,” Freen’s voice echoed the room, still a little groggy from sleep.

Then, Freen giggled as Becky peppered her face with tons of morning kisses, starting with her forehead, down to both her eyes, then cheeks, nose, chin, then finally settles with a chaste kiss on the lips.

“Good morning, my love,” Becky says, smiling her brightest, as if her heart didn’t just do summersaults the moment she woke up with Freen’s scent.

Freen tries to untangle herself, attempting to stand, “Come on, love. We need to prepare for today. Don’t you have taping at 9AM? Blaine will kill me if I get you late. You still have to go back to your apartment to change.”

Preventing the expert to stand, Becky clung tighter and protested, “Baby, five more minutes, please.”

Freen chuckled and hugged the actress back with enthusiasm.

As they finish preparing, they settled on the kitchen bar while Freen brews them their morning caffeine. Of course, a cold brew with a pump of hazelnut for Freen and a personally whisked matcha latte for the actress.

“I’m sorry, love.” Freen says, “I can’t cook you some breakfast. I don’t have food stocked in here.”

Becky glanced around Freen’s place. Although it was quite homey, with soft tones of grays and whites, the one-bedroom apartment was surprisingly bare. Just a few books scattered around, scattered papers of random equations, take-out containers and beers on the fridge, reflecting how little time the expert has to cook for herself.

But the weird thing is, Freen has a collection of herbs and spices planted on the windowpane of her kitchen. Rosemary, thyme, basil, with leaks and coriander neatly arranged, giving her kitchen a pang of flavorful aroma as soon as Becky entered.

“You live off take outs,” Becky says, “But you have these herbs and spices around.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes, I’d like to cook for myself and if I do, I’d like to just reach for ingredients I typically use,” Freen shrugs.

“Good thing they didn’t wither and die,” Becky teased.

“Hey, come on, now! I love my spices. Unlike you Brits.”

Becky raised a brow, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It probably means that despite traveling the world for spices and building empires while you’re at it, British food still tastes like English sadness and salt,” Freen says smugly.

Becky feigns an offended gasp, “How dare you! Pork and beans are staple!”

“Really? Boiled beans with ketchup and pieces of unseared pork are a staple? I’m judging even harder now,” Freen chuckles at the way Becky feigns a sulk. They settle into an easy rhythm of banters and wit exchanges.

They left Freen’s humble apartment, both carrying their own drinks. Freen opens her car door for Becky, which then easily climbs to the passenger’s seat.

As they navigate the traffic to Becky’s apartment, silence settles between them. The kind of silence that never pressures people to have small talks, but the kind of silence that settles the heart and comforts the soul.

“Do you want to come up with me?” Becky asks as they pull over her luxurious complex.

Shaking her head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’d better wait for you here. We can never be too careful,” Freen says, glancing around for potential paparazzi loitering around.

Her gaze softened, smirk forming on her lips, “Plus, it might take us a little while if I go with you.” Freen says, wriggling her eyebrows, “I was barely able to keep my hands to myself even when I’m driving.”

Becky giggles from the tease, “Okay then. Wait for me here, my expert,” she says, winking as she exits the car.

As soon as Becky steps out of the car, the thousand insecurities once again returned on Freen’s mind. She knows Becky deserves better a better partner, someone whom she can proudly show to the world, not without fear of judgement.

You deserve someone who listens to you

Hears every word and knows what to do

When you’re feeling hopeless, lost and confused,

There’s somebody out there who will.

As if on cue, a song she hasn’t heard for years suddenly played softly on her stereo. A song that perfectly encapsulates someone who should be with Becky. Because this kind of love is what Becky deserves.

You need a man who holds you for hours

Make your friends jealous when he brings you flowers

And laughs when he says, “They don’t have love like ours”

There’s somebody out there who will.

Freen was so used to being experimented on, to being the one that people go to when they’re confused. And devastatingly, she thinks that if Becky finds that somebody for her, she will let her go, even when it hurts, even when it tears her apart. Because as far as Freen was concerned, she was just a placeholder, until a love like this finally claims Becky.

There’s somebody out there who’s looking for you

Someday he’ll find you, I swear that is true

He’s gonna kiss you and you’ll feel the world stand still

There’s somebody out there who will.

Little did she know Becky thinks she is all of it and more. Each and every verb and adjective that the song describes, Freen will immediately be on Becky’s mind.

Little did she know how much she lifts Becky up with just her smile, how much she makes the actress relax with just a whiff of her scent, how giddy she gets with gestures as little as just opening water bottles for her.

She doesn’t know. And because she didn’t want to burden Becky with these ridiculous thoughts, she stays silent.

Even when the darkness slowly consumes her.

Even when her insecurities slowly crack her open.

She’s so lost in thought that she barely registered Becky entering back to the car. It startled her when warm lips suddenly grazed her cheek. And right there and then, she knew it didn’t matter how dark her thoughts become. Because she knows, no matter how dark it gets, every little crevice of her mind would light up with just the sight of Becky’s smile.

She fights off a blush when she turned and looks at the star. Becky now donned a simple white shirt with green “MATCHA LATTE” and a cartoon of a beaver relaxing on a cup of a matcha drink. Her reading glasses perched on top of her head while cradling today’s script.

“It seems like you’re deep in your thoughts again, my love.” Becky says, cupping the cheek she kissed. “Can you tell me about what’s on that beautiful mind of yours?”

Freen hummed, “I’m thinking how unfair you are, how effortlessly beautiful you are on everything,” she said. “If I had been the one wearing what you wear, I think Nanang will roll on her grave and give me a smack on the head for dressing like a homeless person for work.”

Becky blushed through her laugh, that careless melody that always lifts up not just Freen’s heart but also captivated her fans. She sighs into the sound, reeling it with the widest smile on her face.

“No, seriously, love,” she continued, “How do you do that?”

Becky brings the back of her hand on her mouth, gently covering her chuckle. “Do what? I just wanted to dress comfortably today since it’ll be hot on set. Plus, you look so gorgeous even with just your hoodie and your nerdy glasses and your messy buns. Why do you think I fell for you at the first place?” she said. “Look, I even wore my white jogger pants and my comfy slippers.” she said as she wiggles her feet.

“Yes, but why?” Freen groaned.

Becky blinked, “Why what?”

“Why do you have to steal my heart with your smile? Why do you treat every floor you walk on like a runway platform?” Freen whined, her head resting on the steering wheel. “It’s not fair.”

Becky laughs again, “Okay, now I’m beginning to think you’re one of my fans.”

Freen lifts up her head and smiles proudly, “Of course I am! I am your number one faen!”

Becky laughs at the pun, “I see what you did there,” Becky smirks, appreciating Freen’s wit, “And no, you are not my number one faen. Because being number one means there’s number two.” She takes Freen’s hand, intertwining it with hers, then brings it to her lips.

“You’re my one and only faen. The first and last one.”

Freen swallows her heart that’s threatening to claw out of her throat, coughing as she starts the engine.

“Alright, sweet-talker. Let’s go.”

On their way to the set, the soft music of Freen’s old playlist fills the comfortable silence. They pull up at the filming location and Freen was quick to open Becky’s door for her.

Freen reached out her hand, gently guiding Becky out of her car. “I’ll see you at the wrap?”

Becky’s brows furrowed, “Aren’t you going in with me?”

“No, it’s Thursday, remember? I don’t work on Thursdays.”

“You never told me why, though. I thought you’d be with me the whole day. You don’t tell me where you go every Thursday.” Becky pouts.

Freen smiles, “Hmm, maybe someday, when you’re free on a Thursday, I’ll show you.”

“Just tell me, please?” Becky says, her eyes narrowing, suspicious. “You don’t secretly have a family and a kid somewhere, do you?”

“I-I promise, I don’t have a family somewhere. Come on now!” Freen laughs nervously.

Becky’s eyes narrowed even more. She hummed in suspicion, “Wait for me. I’ll talk to Nam and Blaine about my schedule today. I’ll go with you,” she says.

Freen lets out a chuckle, “Baby, I’ll be fine. But okay, if you absolutely want to come with me, I’ll stick around and wait for your scenes to finish. Maybe help Billy a little. God knows you actors are a handful.”

“Okay!” Becky says cheerfully.

Just as she was about to reach for Freen’s hand and intwine their fingers, Freen flinched. “Baby, there are people around,” she whispered. “I’m sorry but we can’t risk it.”

Becky pouted, “It’s okay, love. Please, I don’t mind. I trust my coworkers in this set, and the crew are bound to NDAs. Just let me hold your hand, please?”

Freen sighed, “Okay. I’m sorry if I acted like I didn’t want you to hold my hand.”

“It’s okay, baby.” Becky soothes her with her thumb drawing circles on the back of her palms. “I know you’re just looking out for me. But I’ll be fine, okay?”

Freen nods.

As they navigate through the day, Freen assisted Billy with the casts’ queries and assisted on the Turing Machine as the movie documents its progress to completion.

Meanwhile, Becky busied herself with the shoots she needed to do the entire day and compress within a few hours so that she would be able to come with Freen.

When Becky finished her parts, she finds Freen busy with her work, her brows furrowed on the paper she was holding, not noticing Becky entering the deserted room. She plops down Freen’s lap which startled the expert.

Burying her face to the crook of Freen’s neck, Becky inhales her familiar apple wood and pine scent, like the scent of the forest morning, just when the mist and the dew lifts. Her hands clasped Freen’s nape.

“Your scent is so magical I don’t know why but it immediately soothes me after working today,” Becky says, her voice muffled against Freen’s neck. “I deserve a reward for working hard all morning and had less takes necessary,” she pouted.

“Aww, my baby’s sulking,” Freen says, abandoning her work and wrapping her arms around Becky’s waist. “Can my queen look at me?”

Still pouting, Becky lifts her head and looked at her girlfriend’s mesmerizing brown eyes.

“Your lips are so attractive,” Freen says, as her gaze dropped from Becky’s eyes to her lips, her voice low and husky.

“Then come kiss them,” Becky says breathlessly.

Freen obliged, clashing their lips together on a hungry kiss. Freen immediately found Becky’s lower lips, sucked on it, then bites into it. When Becky winced, Freen soothed her with gentle flicking of her tongue, which made Becky moan.

Then, someone entered the room and cleared their throat. “Hello, do you mind? You’re on a set, with lots of people around you.” Nam was leaning against the doorframe, “I thought you’re keeping it lowkey?”

Becky shrugged, “I trust the people on this set. Plus, I don’t think you’d let something happen to us, P’Nam,” she said sheepishly.

Freen chuckles, “Nam, is she done for today? Is it okay if I kidnap her for a while?”

Nam nods, “She’s done for today. So that was why she breezed through the takes,” she said, her eyebrows raised.

“That’s my girl,” Freen says, her chest puffing proudly as she kissed Becky’s temple. “Let’s go?”

---

After a thirty-minute jam to LANY, they arrive at the outskirts of Rangsit University, near the Cyber University building.

“On second thought, love, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go down with me. People might recognize you,” Freen said, looking around the street packed with students on their breaks.

“Oh, come on now!” Becky’s eyebrows furrowed, pouting. “I’ve worked hard for today just to see where you go every Thursday. I’ll be really stealthy,” she said, putting on a very obvious large Chanel glasses and a Yankees cap. “Look, I am blending with the surroundings already.”

Freen laughs at her girlfriend’s antics, “Alright then, since we’ll be at a secret place anyway, you can come,” sliding out of the car and reaching out at the back seat for the meals and drinks they bought from a fast-food chain earlier.

“But I’m not gonna let you wear a Yankee cap. My girlfriend won’t be a Yankee,” Freen says as she takes out a blue Dodgers cap, “Here, wear this. Dodgers blue looks better on you anyway,” she said, smugly.

Becky helps Freen with the meals as they walk along the street, while Freen carries a huge, heavy box with contents unknown to Becky.

“Why do I feel like you’re feeding an entire street with McDo cheeseburgers and fries?” Becky says.

Freen chuckles, “You’ll see.”

In no time, they arrived at an empty lot with a huge Narra tree at the center. The shade was occupied with makeshift desks, sitting on them are kids in ragged clothes but Becky can clearly see that they tried to clean up as much as they can.

Becky blinks as realizations hit her. “You’re feeding the homeless kids?” she says, looking at her girlfriend in awe.

Freen smiled, “I’d like to think, better.”

Their conversation was cut short when the kids noticed and ran towards them.

“P’Freen!” The kids swarmed them, hugging Freen one by one as they approached the shade of the tree.

“What took you so long? We thought we won’t see you today,” says one of the kids, slightly older than the rest.

“I’m sorry, N’Non, got held up by the girl next to me,” she said, nudging Becky’s shoulders. “Guys, this is Becky,” Freen introduced, “You can call her Phi, too, or just call her burger lady,” she says, chuckling. The kids around them laughed and said “burger lady” in chorus.

“Come on,” Becky protested, lightly nudging Freen’s arm with her shoulder.

They put down the meals they were holding on a makeshift table and turned,

“I was just joking, you guys,” Freen said. “She’s way too pretty to be the burger lady,” she winked at Becky.

“You guys can just call me P’Bec,” she says, smiling at the small faces of the kids.

Becky sees them settle down among themselves, immediately grouping themselves among their age. Of the twelve children, four groups were formed. The small ones had a group of five, sitting at the center of the shade, the next group that had three was huddled at one of the makeshift desks near the edge of the shade, and the last two groups had two kids each, huddled near the trunk of the tree, already doing their respective tasks without Freen’s instructions.

“Why are they grouped like that?” Becky asked, tilting her head towards Freen in curiosity.

Freen leaned down towards the box and let Becky see the contents of it. Inside were assortments of school supplies: notebooks, boxes of pencils and pens, crayons and story books.

“The little ones,” Freen nods on the five kids at the center, “cannot read or write yet, so we’re teaching them basic Thai scripts and the English alphabet. The next group, we’re teaching basic arithmetic since they are now literate. I’m teaching them not to be scared of math and that math is actually beautiful. And hopefully, they won’t be.

“Nop, Non’s brother, and Kiyo, are two years younger than Non and Kade. They’re on their fifth grade, so, they’re here to teach the youngest ones how to read and write. But after they’re done, I’ll be teaching them basic algebra. As for the two oldest, they’re here to teach the other group the basic arithmetic and then, I’ll also be teaching them Basic Physics after. I call all of them my young Padawans.”

“Oh, God, you’re such a dork!” Becky says in mock exasperation.

Freen raised her eyebrows, “And yet, you get the reference,” she said with smirk.

“Whatever,” Becky says, rolling her eyes.

They observed as Non roamed around the group, placing small white boards on each while Kade, a girl with a short, chestnut brown hair distributes the meals. Both moved fluidly with practiced ease. They settled at the trunk of the tree, silently observing the kids while they munch on their burgers and fries before their discussion starts.

“Since when do you do this?” Becky asks, overwhelmed by the scene unfolding in front of her.

“Hmm, since the year I transferred here,” she says. “Why’d you ask?”

“So, you’ve been doing this for five years?”

Freen nodded, slowly sorting the contents of the box, handing the story books to the second oldest pair. “Pretty much. It started with Non and Kade,” nodding at the direction of the two oldest kids. “They were the same age as the youngest ones when both of them approached me for alms. But since I was also a broke ass college student, I just sat down and offered to share my meal with them.”

They were now roaming around the group as the kids begin with their meal. “When I sat down with them, Kade became curious at the textbooks I was carrying and asked about its contents,” Freen chuckled, her eyes roaming around the kids as they enjoy their meal.

“It was about Number Theory and Logic Circuits, so I didn’t want to traumatize them and just told them they’re for my brain.” Freen chuckles, “That was when Non said they both can’t write nor read and that they were living on the streets for as long as they remember. Since then, I made sure I sat with them with every long period I’m free, taught them how to write and read.

“When I started working a year after, Mac followed me here from Canada and lived with me and Iris on a small house just near here. That was when I was able to give them a little bit more, just enough money to buy their uniforms. I tried to offer them more but since they were already living at a shelter that time, they refused and even thanked me for the pair of uniforms I bought for them. I couldn’t insist since Mac and I just started a business on our garage, and I still had to work, so I let them be. But now, they are now freshmen in high school. Non got the highest overall score on their entrance exam while Kade had the highest in Math.” Freen said, her chest puffing proudly with the two.

“I just couldn't abandon them.” Freen continued, “Nanang, my grandma, always says that the only valuable thing she could leave for me when she dies is the value of education. I carried that with me and hopefully, I passed it down to them as well,” Freen says, her eyes now watering at the mention of her grandma.

Becky was silent. All of the new information poured out of Freen made her chest hurt with pride from the expert’s resilience, how she crawled through the life of abandonment and poverty, and still come out to be the kindest and most generous person she knows.

“You know,” Becky says, leaning her head towards Freen’s shoulders, “I’m so, so proud of you, baby. I may not have known all of your struggles and all of the things you’ve been through just yet, but I know it took a lot courage and resiliency to get to where you are now,” she leans to kiss Freen’s cheeks.

“But hey, this time,” she takes Freen’s hand and gently guides her back to the kids, smiling with her eyes and all her dimples seen, “You now got a pretty lady helping you with them,” she grinned sheepishly.

They spent the rest of the afternoon with the kids. Becky was helping Nop and Kiyo with the youngest, even performing a very dramatic storytelling of one of the storybooks Freen brought, which, of course, earned an over-enthusiastic applause from her audience.

Freen also helped with Non and Kade, playing with the pencils and pens as they demonstrate addition and subtraction to the kids.

“P’Bec, can you come back with P’Freen next week as well?” Bumi, one of the youngest requested. “It’s so much fun listening to your storytelling.”

Becky patted his head, “Of course, I will!”

“Baby,” Freen mumbles, “please don’t give promises like that. We don’t know if you’re free next Thursday.”

“It’s fine, love,” Becky replied, “I’ll ask Blaine to clear my schedule for that day.”

“Please don’t. We don’t want to impose.”

“Silly! What do you mean by that?” Becky says, “Of course I want to be here as well.”

As the younger kids slowly dissipate, cradling their new notebooks, crayons, pencils and storybooks, Freen settled down with the four and started tutoring them. They formed a circle around the makeshift table, the kids bringing out their notebooks and pens.

“Alright, we now start at the concept of negative numbers,” Freen says. “I told you when you were kids that subtraction and division cannot be interchangeable, right?”

Both Nop and Kiyo nodded.

“Well, now that we are starting with Grown Up Mathematics, we change that now,” Freen says, closely eying the kids as their eyes widen with panic.

Freen chuckles, “Now, what do I always say at the start of our session?”

“Not to panic and not to be scared of Math,” Nop and Kiyo says in practiced unison.

“That’s right. It’s normal to be scared of something you don’t understand. But that’s what I’m here for,” Freen says with a gentle smile.

“It’s just easy. Here, let me. When you see a small number first on a subtraction,” Freen places a number three card on the table along a minus sign then takes out a seven, “You could interchange it,” she says, interchanging the number three and number seven, “But now, you have to retain the minus sign with the answer. The minus sign just means that the small number was first on the equation.

“But now, we’ll call the minus, negative,” Freen looks at the two kids, their brows furrowed, thinking, while the two older ones just sat back and smirked, as if it was something they already passed, “So, what’s the answer?”

Nop was the first to talk, “Is it four, P’Freen?”

“No,” Kiyo said, “we have to put minus sign at before it. So, minus four?”

Freen smiled, “Yes. Kiyo is right, Nop. Three was the first number, which is less than seven, so, we’ll have to put negative on it.”

Becky watched as Freen patiently taught the kids, with questions occasionally thrown at Non and Kade, as if testing them if they could still recall the basics. They had their session for at least an hour but Becky, despite snoozing off every math lesson she had when she was still studying, weirdly sat through Freen’s lecture, drawn to how simple her girlfriend made the complicated theories looked.

When Nop and Kiyo left, Freen started with Non and Kade, glad that despite catching them off guard with her algebra questions, both still were able to answer her correctly. They started with Basic Physics, Freen taking out her handy dandy whiteboard pen that she always keeps around on her pocket.

They start with computing distance, which both of the kids breezed through, playing with the equations when Freen tested how they would handle if different variables are missing. Then, they proceeded to Scalar versus Vector.

“So, with Scalar,” Freen started, “the magnitude is the only one that’s measured. In terms of distance, what only matters is how far the object traveled. However, with Vectors, both magnitude and direction are measured.”

Then, Freen looked at Becky, a smile tugging on her lips as she noticed that the actress is listening, too.

“Let’s put it like this,” Freen explained further, “Before, I was a scalar. I know I was moving somewhere, I don’t know where to, but I was. But when I met the burger lady over there,” Freen shifts her gaze to Becky, then Non and Kade followed her gaze, “suddenly, all of the paths I take are going towards, or going back to her,” she said smugly.

“Oh God, P’Freen,” both Non and Kade groaned, their nose scrunched, “You’re embarrassing,” they said in unison.

Becky laughed at both of their reactions, the back of her hand covering her mouth, but a blush crept on her cheek and her ears.

Freen protested, “Hey! That’s called direction! Vector! Zero displacement, though,” she said as looked back at Becky and winked. “Since she will always be my origin and limit.”

Non tilts her head, “Limits?”

“Oh, that’s for Calculus. You’ll take that around your ninth grade, so I won’t explain yet.”

The rest of their sessions were filled with just Physics, both theoretical and, on Freen’s case, weirdly metaphorical.

And Becky, despite loathing the subjects Freen teaches, wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

One day, back when times are simpler, Aunt Bellinda, May and Mac’s mom caught Freen off guard. It was their anniversary and the whole clan has gathered for a simple lunch. Out of the blue, Freen felt a nudge, her aunt asked her, “Can you pray and bless the food?”

Confused, Freen is not sure why her Aunt thought it was a good idea to ask her when she knows Freen is not the most religious child in the room. In shock and sheer panic, Freen brought her index finger to her forehead, while muttering.

“1…”

Left shoulder, “2…”

Then, right, “3…”

The look of horror on Freen’s face might have been comedic since everyone burst out laughing, thinking it was a typical Freen move to pray to the numbers instead of a god.

“It’s not supposed to numbers, you demon!” May says.

Freen just scratched the back of her head, “Well, you guys should’ve known that it was not a good idea to let me lead the prayer!” she says defensively, “You know I’m not that religious,” she retorted, masking the horror she felt with a light-hearted banter.

Looking back to it now, Freen might have a reason why she unconsciously muttered numbers instead of the phrases Catholics say at the beginning of a prayer—because she has always had more faith in conciseness and precision of numbers, rather than some deity they call God.

For in numbers, it makes sense.

For in numbers, occurrences are predictable, foreseeable—preparable.

Because this? They didn’t see it coming, not in a million years.

Few days have passed since Freen taught the kids under the Narra shade and they fell into a comfortable rhythm, finding intimacies not just by exploring each other’s bodies but also diving the depths of their souls.

Becky’s relationship with her mom is also getting better, with occasional visits from Rawee to cook homemade meals and to check up on Becky from time to time. She was still not able to talk her mom down and tell her about what was happening to her lately with her back-to-back magazine shoots and tapings, especially now since the first table reading for the new series will be two days from now.

“We should watch something,” Becky says, plopping out of her bedroom. It was one of the rare days that Becky didn’t have anything lined up, so Blaine allowed her to get some well-deserved rest.

“Hmm, alright, love,” Freen scoots on the side, accommodating Becky as she snuggles on her chest. “What do you suggest we watch?”

“I saw you with a TARDIS hoodie one time. How about some New Who?”

“Wait,” Freen stilled, “You know Doctor Who?” She said, perplexed.

Becky chuckles, “Of course I know Doctor Who! I’m half-British! I love Ten, but—”

“Eleven is my favorite!” They said in unison, laughing from their quip.

“Alright but,” Becky says, “As much as Eleven is my favorite too, people tend to see him as this goofy, comedic Doctor that cannot harm a puppy. But, for me, he is more dangerous than any other reincarnations.”

Freen raised her brows, “What do you mean? Eleven is a puppy on a fez!”

“Not really. Nine is the puppy.”

“Wha—he is more like your emo uncle stuck on an awkward teenage party!”

“No, Nine is a puppy on a leather jacket.” Becky says, “He couldn’t even kill Rose’s dalek due to his compassion. While Eleven might act cute and goofy on a fez, he blew up a planet just to send a message.”

“Yes—but that’s because of the Ponds!” Freen says, enjoying the debate they’re having.

“Yes, but it was a whole planet, Freen,” Becky says, “Civilians are there, too!”

“Really, love? Civilian daleks?” Freen says.

Becky sat down, breaking away from their cuddle, and flailed her hand, “See, this is where genocide starts,” says with a mock sigh. With that, they started their afternoon debating over Doctor Who while forgetting to actually watch it.

After some time, they settled once more into each other’s embrace, for some reason, topics from Doctor Who somehow drifted to feminism, societal differences, and other issues they would easily talk about.

The sun was already retiring from its daytime walks when Becky’s stomach started protesting, realizing they haven’t eaten lunch.

“Let’s go out for lunch, instead,” Freen says, standing from their bubble and taking Becky’s hand.

They went for a drive around near the Chao Phraya River when they saw vendors lined an alley with street foods, Freen practically salivating from the aroma of Tom Yum and Pad Thai.

“Have you tried eating at places like these?” Freen says, driving slowly through the street.

Becky shook her head, “No, not really. They don’t look very clean.”

“Oh, come on now, princess! You’ll be fine with a little oil on your system. Plus, you’ll work it out anyway.”

Freen parked the car a street away, gave Becky her spare hoodie at the backseat and put her Dodger cap on her. The night falls as the lights from the night market start bustling.

“Thank God it’s a little chilly outside,” Freen says, “or else you might feel hot and sweaty outside.”

“Well, I feel hot every time you’re around, anyway,” Becky says with a smirk.

“Flirt.”

“Only for you, teerak,” Becky says, unbuckling her seatbelt, stealing a peck from Freen.

With that, they went towards the enticing aroma of the street. Buying a little bit of each, they look for an empty table in the middle of the street. Becky watched as Freen navigated store per store, ordering as much food as they could possibly eat, like a kid trapped in a candy store with too many choices.

While they were walking around, looking for an available space, Becky heard the expert giggle uncontrollably. She was trying to mask it, covering her mouth with both hands but spectacularly failed.

Becky raised an eyebrow, “What’s so funny?”

She turned and nodded towards a guy with a very symmetrical mustache, eating one of the fried skewers off the night market.

“Pfft. His mustache looks like the perfect negative parabola,” she said, still stifling a laugh.

‘I wished for this. But God please give me patience,’ Becky thought, shaking her head with the expert’s antics.

Finally settling down, “Well, that doesn’t look sketchy at all,” Becky pointed at a black, sausage-looking blob with a sticky sauce.

“The lady says it’s blood sausage!” Freen says enthusiastically, popping one on her mouth. Her face contorted with a grimace. “Oh, that doesn’t taste right,” but then, she shrugged, says “eh,” and proceeds to still swallow it.

“Sarocha!” Becky slapped her arms, “why would you still eat it if it doesn’t taste right?”

“That’s the beauty of this… culinary journey!” Freen says, “you won’t know if it’s a hidden gem or just an avoided one if you won’t try it. And that’s definitely an avoided one,” Freen threw back her head and laughed.

The night was still young when they finished with their meals. Too full to immediately go home, they decided to stroll around, appreciating the night breeze and the gentle sound of the river when Becky suddenly stopped.

There was a sudden downpour of rain, causing the people around to seek some shelter. Pulling Freen back to their car, Becky tilted her head when the expert didn’t move from her spot. Turning around, she saw a smirk tugged on Freen’s lips instead.

“What’s the rush, love? We’re already soaked anyway,” Freen says, pulling down the hood of her jacket. She took a step back from the crowd, onto the darkness of the night, and she stretched her hand, “Come, dance with me?”

“But, love, our phones!” Becky says, glancing towards their pockets, then to the safety of the car.

It was dark but Becky could see Freen raising her brow, “Our phones have IP68, they’re waterproof. Come on,” Freen says as she started to jump on the puddle, tilting her head up and dancing with her hands stretched out.

“Alright,” Becky laughed and joined her girlfriend and leapt on the dark, also pulling her hood and cap off with her sunglasses.

“Becbec! No! They’ll recognize you!” Freen panics and tried to draw Becky’s hood up again.

Becky cupped Freen’s face, stepping nearer, causing Freen to still, feeling Becky’s warm breath beneath the coldness of the damp rain.

“It’s dark, love. The nearest person is at least ten meters away. And if they recognize me, let them be.”

“What? Are you insane?”

Becky smiled her widest smile, only reserved for Freen, “No, but for the first time in a long time, I’m not scared,” Becky nudges, closing the gap between them with a soft, languid kiss. “You make me fearless.”

Becky can hear how loud Freen’s heartbeat is, but her heartbeat is no better. They stayed like that, forehead against forehead, Becky still clutching the back of Freen’s neck while Freen’s arms were wrapped around Becky’s waist, swaying on the melody and tranquility of the torrential rain that offered solace around them.

Once the rain subsided, Becky sat on one of the ledge barriers facing the river, while Freen hugged her from behind, supporting the actress. They squeezed the water out of their jackets and laid them beside Becky.

Suddenly, Freen stepped out of their bubble, running onto the nearest shrub. Clutching her stomach, “Oh, I don’t feel so good,” she said, her face draining of color while cold sweats started to appear on her forehead.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Becky panics, going down the ledge and follows Freen. “What’s wrong?”

Then, Freen vomited the contents of what they ate earlier.

“I told you not to eat that blood sausage!” Becky says, worry now evident on her face.

“T’was worth it, though.” Freen smiles, then she turned around and doubled over, vomiting once more.

“Really? Worth it?” Becky shook her head and sighed at her girlfriend’s antics. She gives Freen the water bottle she’s been holding, “Come on, drink. Let’s get you to a hospital.”

She guides Freen to the car and slides her on the passenger seat, clutching a plastic bag while they navigate their way to ER. Still very wet from their earlier innuendoes, Becky insisted that she accompany Freen, even though the expert says she’ll be okay and that she should go home. Freen was sure Becky would get recognized so she didn’t forget to remind Becky to wear a face mask and not to remove her cap if she wants to come with her inside.

The moment they arrived, they were greeted by a team of nurse and paramedics. She was placed on a wheelchair as a young doctor clutching a memo pad approached them. Freen’s eyes were closed this time, all the vomiting made her weak.

“Ma’am, I’m here to ask you some questions and take your history,” the young doctor says, examining Freen a second too long. Becky, of course, noticed.

Narrowing her eyes, “When will the questioning start, doc,” she said coldly, which prompted Freen to open her eyes and look at Becky because she knows that tone.

Shaking her head out of her trance, the doctor started taking Freen’s history, “What happened, ma’am? What brought you here?”

“I think I had food poisoning. We were at the street food marketplace near Chao Phraya, and I ate a very suspicious-looking blood sausage.”

“Okay,” the doctor said, taking down notes. “Are you sexually active?”

“Is that a necessary question, doc?” Becky asked once more with indifference.

“Yes, ma’am,” the doctor says, “It is so that we could assess if it is really food poisoning or something else that might have triggered the vomiting,” she explains.

“Y-yes,” Freen says, colors seem to flood back Freen’s pale face as she looked at Becky.

“Alright,” ticking a box once more, reaching into the bedside cabinet and pulled a tiny box, “This is a pregnancy test. Kindly use the rest room on the—”

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary, doc.” Freen cut her off.

The doctor blinked, “Ma’am, I know you might suspect food poisoning as your diagnosis but since you’re sexually active, we also have to make sure you’re not pregnant—”

“Oh, uhm,” Freen says, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. “I use the best contraceptive there is,” she says, a nervous chuckle escaping her.

“Even so, I suggest—”

“She’s gay,” Becky says, now also laughing with Freen’s antics.

The doctor widened her eyes, “Oh! I… Uhm… Okay! That’s—that’s nice,” A blush slowly crept on the young doctor’s ears as her gaze landed on Becky, “I’m sorry, I am not used to these lines of questioning. I am still an intern.”

Freen’s gaze softened with a sigh, “You’re doing fine, doc. I’m sorry for messing with you. I just wanted not to make things awkward.”

“It’s alright,” the doctor said with a shy smile. “I’ll consult one of the ER residents. It might just be food poisoning so I will now insert a saline IV so that you won’t get dehydrated.”

After doing the procedure, they transferred Freen into a private suite, requesting for the strictest privacy. The doctor said she will place Freen under observation for now and they were instructed to stay overnight, waiting for some additional tests to arrive.

Within the confines of the private hospital suite, Freen was able to change to hospital clothes while Becky was able to take some of the spare clothes that the expert always has on her car and settled down next to Freen, caressing the hand free from the IV.

“Still think the sausage was worth it?”

Freen smiled and nodded, “Only because I get the privilege to be taken care of by you.” She brought Becky’s hand on her lips and kissed it.

“Silly! You don’t need to be hospitalized for me to take care of you!” Becky says, “Plus, you could just call your doctor if you’re in these kinds of emergency,” she rolled her eyes.

Freen chuckled, “Aw, my baby lovey cakes honey moon pie is jealous,” Freen coos, gently pulling Becky into the bed. “Don’t be. Hmm? I’m only yours. Plus, I think the doctor was checking us both.”

Becky laughs at the long endearment, melting the jealousy away.

“Come here, cuddle with me.”

Freen scooted a little, giving space for Becky to lay down on the hospital bed. They settled, Freen hugging her queen from behind, her IV arm carefully draped over Becky’s stomach. Becky burrowed her nose deeper into Freen’s neck, inhaling her scent.

Then, out of nowhere, half-asleep, Freen broke the silence.

“Have I told you today how lucky I am to be in love with you?”

Within each other’s arms, they drifted off to sleep.

Freen was discharged from the hospital when they made sure it was only a minor food poisoning, something about the blood sausage not being cooked thoroughly. When all was cleared, they left, not with a trauma but another experience that they would laugh about in the future.

Few days passed, they were on one of their calls, both of them lost on their own tasks, with Freen stuck working from her office, dealing with an emergency regarding a data loss and backup failure while Becky studies a new script for one of her upcoming series with Janus.

It was one of those calls where they were not particularly talking but were still on a call just to feel connected to each other. An easy rhythm, a comfortable silence.

But then, the silence broke when the door on Becky’s room opened with a force.

On the doorframe, Rawee stood, her face livid while clutching an envelope.

“Do you have something to tell me, Becca?” Rawee’s voice was laced with quiet fury.

Becky’s posture went rigid, finally finding her voice, she asks, “What are you talking about, mom?”

Rawee threw the envelope at her desk. “Explain.”

Inside, dozens of pictures were taken. Pictures of her and Freen on their most intimate moments.

When Freen poked a marshmallow and gave it to Becky during their smores date.

Pictures of her and Freen on the set, with Becky’s legs casually draped over Freen’s lap.

Pictures of her and Freen on one of their quiet coffee dates, just staring at each other.

Then, she looked at the pictures of them kissing at the balcony of Nusara.

“Mom…” Becky’s voice cracked, her heart thumping so loud against her chest.

“So?” Rawee’s voice was sharp, “Are you a lesbian now?” Her mom asked, her tone laced with disgust.

Becky swallowed the lump on her throat and opened her mouth, willing a word to come out. But nothing came. Not even a sound.

“You know, I’ll be okay with that,” she said sarcastically. “But seriously? That same girl we met at the restaurant? I thought she was just your friend? That’s who you are with? Even Janus is better than her!”

At that, Becky finally found her voice, her fury evident, “Are you serious? You already know what happened between me and Janus. You’d rather I’d be with someone who thinks so lowly of me that they'd bet about my virginity?”

“Yes!” Rawee says sharply, “Because at least with a man like Janus, you’ll have a future! Do you think she could feed you? With a small salary she has? You think you could keep your lifestyle if you’ll end up with her?”

“I don’t care about that!” Becky shouts, her voice breaking as tears continuously stream down her face, “I’ll work for us both of us! Because she’s the only one who made me feel safe enough to be comfortable of my own skin!”

“Wake up, Becca! She’s in it for your money and you’re just too blind to see!”

Tears now clouding her sight, anger simmers, “You don’t know what you’re saying! Freen is the most generous person I know. Never, not once, did she take advantage of me!” Her voice cracks, reduced into something smaller, gentler, “She never even let me pay for anything.”

Rawee scoffed, “and you think she’s not playing the long game? Wake up, Becca! This is the real world!” her mom’s tone cuts through the air, “If you’re gonna be a disgusting sinner, at least get something in return. Go after someone who can secure your future so that you won’t have to work anymore!”

She threw another set of pictures, this time, the one where they ate at the night market, “She can’t even take you out properly. Was she aware that you never even tried these… abominations before,” Rawee spat, her voice laced with disdain.

“Is that all there is to it for you, mom?” Becky sobs, clutching her shirt as if to tether her, “Money? Power?”

“Yes, because love won’t feed you. Love won’t make you comfortable. Love? It ruins you until you’re just a former shell of yourself. So, wake up and break it off before these pictures leak.” Rawee’s tone is still proud, still sharp, still disgusted. “Break it off before I do.”

Becky laughed, no, not the usual melody it carries. This laugh made her stomach churn, made her suffocate. “You know, she was the one who convinced me to reconnect with you,” her voice now small, quiet through the pain. “She was the one who made me realize that your actions might have been that drastic because you were grieving too.”

Rawee’s gaze faltered just a second, but she immediately returned to being stoic and cold. “I don’t care. She will not be the death of your career,” she says, her tone indifferent. “Not when you’re just starting. I will not let all our hard work be in vain. What will the producers say? What will the brands say when they find out that their ambassador is in a relationship with someone who can’t even buy the cheapest item on their brand?”

Rawee’s voice cut through Becky’s heart, twisting it on her chest as she bleeds out. Her knees buckled, her strength leaving her as the pain of her mother’s words settle.

She lowers her head, her temple pressed on the floor, “Please, m-mom, don’t take her away from me,” she kneels in desperation. “I-I know what you’re capable of…” her voice broke, desperate, “Please, I b-beg you, don’t. Because you will lose me, too.”

“Then, so be it. Don’t ruin our family’s image,” Rawee spat, “You don’t get to ruin your dad’s legacy. Don’t be a disgrace.”

And with finality, Rawee turned her heel and left Becky on her bedroom floor, hysterically sobbing through the weight of their confrontation.

“Becbec…” she was jolted from her cries when Freen’s voice rang on her earbuds, cutting through her sobs.

Not realizing their call was still connected.

And Freen, on the other line, heard everything.

Chapter Text

The dawn was still breaking when Freen was jolted awake by the ringing of Sherlock theme on her phone, indicating that Poom was calling.

Poom was a burly gentleman that always stood like there’s something sticking up his ass, although Freen doubts that there actually is something sticking up his ass.

It was just that the man conducted himself as so since he was a military man with quite an extensive background in terms of investigative work. Freen has hired him to find her parents, the very reason why she actually relocated in Thailand at the first place.

“Poom,” Freen says, still deep in the haze of sleep. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Good morning, Miss Chankimha,” replied a deep, booming voice on the other line. “If our time is synced, the time is now 4:37 in the morning, miss.”

“Oh God, that was a sarcasm!” Freen groaned, “Tell me, is there an update?”

“Yes, miss. About your mom.”

With that, Freen jerked upright, all of the sleep gone on her system. “Tell me.”

“I found out that when she got back here in Thailand to find your father, she worked as a secretary of Mr. Sira, a small-time businessman and married him after year when she got pregnant with his son—”

“Alright,” cutting Poom off, “I don’t want to hear it. Do you have any more updates?”

Freen’s heart sank. She had expected this, that her parents are either dead or have built families on their own. But she still carried a little hope through the years that maybe, just maybe, her parents had good reasons why they didn’t come back for her. But now, confirming that they really chose to abandon her…

“Yes, miss. I have her number, if you want it.”

A number… a way of communication… a way of finding out the reasons…

“Can you send it to me, Poom?”

“I will email it to you with some of the files you might want to dig into.”

“Thank you, Poom, and for God’s sake, sleep!”

Minutes after she hang up, she received the email from Poom with attached files and a contact number. She saved it and decided to text her mother tomorrow. Because after a long, long time of searching, she finally found something. Not the reconnection she’d hoped for, but the answers behind those years questions.

She wasn’t able to fall asleep after that. She went to the other room and booted up her PC. Deciding to stall the remaining hours before work by opening Genshin and virtually roaming Liyue and Sumeru, instead. Even in-game, she still prefers the tranquility of the mountains. It didn’t clear her mind, though, as she hoped for, but instead, her mind drifted back to the newly-saved number on her phone.

She sat on her car, parking on her spot near the Diversity building, still clutching her phone, waiting for a reply from Alice, her mom.

6:43AM

To: Alice

Hello, ma. This is Freen. I know it might come as a shock to you since you never really reached out for years but I’m here in Thailand, for years now, actually, trying to find you and dad. Would you be willing to meet up with me tomorrow for lunch?

Then, a call came through her phone. She fumbled with it, swiping to answer, her hands trembling as she placed her phone on her ear.

“Freen, is this really you?” A voice on the other end called. It stirred an old memory from Freen, something so deep that it felt like a dream.

With a trembling voice, “Yes, ma, it’s me,” she managed to say.

“I… can I see you? Please?” Alice’s voice cracked, clearly on the verge of crying.

Freen tried to compose herself, all of the questions she had, flooding her brain all at once, overwhelming her. “Y-yes, ma. Can we meet up tomorrow? I have work now and I have urgent tasks to tend to.”

“Alright, Freen,” Alice’s voice was soft despite the obvious fragility of her tone. “Please take care, anak.”

Just as she hung up the phone, she called Becky, her breath heaving as her sight threatening to black out once more.

Freen hears the click and Becky’s energetic voice comes through.

“Hi, love,” Becky says breathlessly, clearly in the middle of working out, “have you arrived— what’s wrong?” her voice turned to worry when she hears Freen sobbing, struggling to breathe through the call.

“M-my mom…” Freen says through her sobs, “I f-finally found her.”

“Okay teerak. Okay,” Becky says, halting her session, her tone was sweet and calming, “I can’t wait to hear what happened,” she says, not letting Freen hear how hard she’s trying not to panic when she heard her girlfriend struggling to breathe. “But can you breathe for me first, my love? Hmm? Can you do that with me?”

Freen let out a sound that’s close to a yes but not quite.

“Alright, baby. Breathe. Inhale,” Becky let out a sharp inhale, making sure that Freen hears it through the call. It eased her panic when she heard the expert mimic her breathing, “Then exhale,” blowing air through her mouth as Freen also does the same.

Becky guided Freen through the attack with that and by asking Freen to focus on her voice. Once she is sure that the expert is breathing normally, she coos her.

“Are you okay now, my love? Are you able to breathe now for me? Hmm?”

Still sobbing, “Y-yes, baby. Thank you so much,” Freen says, her voice now calmer. “I-I love you so much. Just hearing your voice calms me down.”

Becky lets out a giggle, part from relief, part from the fact that she has that kind of effect on Freen. “Can you tell me about what happened, teerak?”

“P-Poom was finally able to track her down—shit sorry baby, can I tell you some other time?” She says as her brows furrow with the new email that one of their clients sent. It seems like there was a data loss last night. “We have to deal with backup failure from the quarter data repositories. I got to go.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll hang—”

“No, baby, please don’t hang up,” Freen says, wiping her tears as she gathers her laptop and closes the door of her car. “I want to hear you, even if you’re not talking to me.”

Blushing, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, baby. Your presence calms me down in ways you don’t even know.”

“Okay, sweet talker. I won’t hang up. But feel free to mute yourself if ever you’re on a meeting and have to discuss sensitive information, okay?”

With that, they settled to a quiet rhythm. Emergency meetings and quick hot fixes for Freen, while Becky settles on the comfortable silence with her new scripts and research materials.

Then, the lull broke, the comfort shattered.

The moment Rawee Armstrong barged into their quiet, Freen felt it once more—the prickle of a thousand needles simultaneously piercing her…

The cold that didn’t have anything to do with the room temperature…

The lump on her throat that didn’t have anything to do with dehydration…

The words she spoke were daggers scraping her very soul, wounding her very essence. Not because it was harsh, not because it was laced with disgust, but because it was true.

Who was she, really? She was nothing. She can only offer everything she owns, everything that she is, and to others, that might be enough.

To others, it might be more than enough.

But she can never offer Becky the stability and the assurance that her career won’t suffer once their relationship was out.

So, she mutes herself.

She suffers in silence, letting the words sink deeper, hurt deeper.

Then, she hears Becky laugh.

No, not the laugh that lifts her off her feet with the butterflies dancing on her stomach.

No.

This laugh killed them.

This laugh made her stomach turn.

This laugh made her heart drop to the depths of hell.

This laugh…

Oh God…

This laugh is the sound Freen never wants to hear coming from her sun.

So, she composes herself. She breathes through the pain.

She didn’t cry, her body was too numb, too frozen to do anything.

Because she cannot break down now, not when Becky’s world is crumbling.

She does the same thing Becky did earlier for her. She became her anchor.

She became her Atlas. She will hold the sky if it means Becky gets to shine. Even if it tears her limb from limb, muscle by muscle. Even if the very fabric of her being slowly snaps one by one.

She listens to Becky’s sobs and shouts. She listens to Becky as she desperately begs her mom not to tear them apart. But deep down, Freen knows everything is cracking.

But because it’s Freen, she chips a little bit of herself just so Becky would remain full.

So, she slips her mask, thankful for the distance, thankful for the fact that Becky couldn’t see her. Because if she could, she’d know.

The silence was far from the comfort it offered half an hour ago. It tore through the call like a knife scraping concrete. Becky’s sobs twist something in Freen, the pain was far from any heartbreaks she’d ever experienced, her heart slowly chipping away with the sound. But she swallows everything down and finally speaks.

“Becbec…” Becky was jolted from her cries when Freen’s voice rang on her earbuds, cutting through her sobs.

Scrambling to her feet, Becky immediately reached her phone, disconnected the Bluetooth and took the phone on her ear.

“Oh God, baby, I-I’m so sorry. Please tell me you didn’t hear all of that,” she says through the sobs.

“Which part? The part where your mom praised my fashion sense or my career?” She chuckles, her voice was light, teasing without any traces of sarcasm, masking the ache successfully.

“I’m sorry, baby. You have to understand, please—”

“It’s okay, my love,” Freen’s voice was soft and gentle. “She has a point, you know. Even I have no idea why you chose me. I’m just me. But you know, it’s like one of those programs that I initially failed to run but after scrolling through the lines and not doing anything, it magically runs. I never ever dare to question it,” she chuckles, trying her hardest to do what she promised Becky when they got together.

‘I will make your everything alright,’ Freen thought with determination.

“Love, please. Please don’t leave me—”

“Me? Leave you? The Rebecca Armstrong?” Freen chuckles, “What am I? Crazy? Nope. Not a chance. Not ever. I apologize to your mom, but nope. And please, I don’t get why she doesn’t like me. I’m cute and adorable as fuck, you know!”

With that banter, Becky lets out a broken laugh. Still sobbing, still a mess, but a real laugh.

“That, you are, my love.” Becky says softly, her sobs finally subsiding.

“You know, it’s unfair for us mortals that even when you’re crying your eyes out, your laugh still sounds angelic,” Freen lets out a dramatic sigh, “it makes me believe in God because you are a proof that He has favorites. It’s unfair, love!” Freen whines.

And Becky? Becky lets out another giggle despite getting her heart broken by her mom.

“That’s it. That’s the laugh I want to hear.” Freen smiles, her pain momentarily eased with that angelic sound. “Not the broken, painful sound you made while ago.”

Freen lets out a sigh. “Please don’t give up on your mom, baby,” her voice now quieter, “I don’t want to be the reason why the relationship you’re working so hard to rebuild gets ruined with finality. I’ll work harder to earn her approval. I’m the problem here after all.”

Becky’s eyes widened, “No!” her voice raised, fear evident. “There is nothing wrong with you, baby. It’s mom that has it wrong!” Her panic now seeps through her tone. “Please don’t ever think that! You are perfect to me. Please, please believe me.”

“Shh, hush now, my love,” Freen coos her, “I told you, didn’t I? You’re not getting rid of me easily,” she chuckles.

A silence settles between them, still connected, still there.

Then, “Have I told you today how lucky I am to be in love with you?” Freen says, with quiet resignation, so sincere, so, so desperately true.

And Becky? Becky cried.

Not for the heart her mom broke.

Not for the pain her mom spoke.

But for the words Freen told.

For the sincerity they hold.

It wasn’t the first time she said it. But the weight it carried somehow intensified.

Because Freen’s words didn’t just offer a temporary recluse, it offered her a home where all the tears stop and replaced with healing.

“You know what? Do you want us to go to Mind’s bar now? We could go there now while it’s still closed and go separately so that no one will suspect. You could invite Irin too, so that it’s less suspicious. I checked with Blaine, and your day will start at lunch tomorrow for a magazine shoot before you go for the Turing’s taping,” Freen suggests.

Becky nods, calming down once more with Freen’s soothing voice. “O-Okay, teerak. We’ll be there.”

“I promise I will bring you back before 10pm, my queen. Not that your car will turn into squash or your driver will turn into rats or anything,” Freen quipped with the Cinderella reference. Becky swears she can see Freen’s eyebrows wiggle and her smirk through her closed eyes.

And just like that, Becky’s heart is full once more. The hurt and the gravity of her mom’s words was mended by Freen’s light. As always.

---

Becky and Irin arrived at The Lair, Mind’s club. It was the same club that she and her team frequent.

‘So, this is why Freen is able to still go inside with just her hoodie despite the dress code.’ Becky thought. They went inside, pass the ‘Closed’ sign and when they opened the door, they were met by a voice radiating warmth. Cradling a guitar, Freen’s eyes were closed, tear paths clearly visible on her cheeks while she sang, her lithe fingers dancing through the frets and the strings.

Minamasdan ka’t di namalayang ako’y nakangiti na pala

At tila huminto ang oras, magkatagpo ating mga mata

‘Di makahinga, ika’y nakangiti na rin pala

[I bask at the sight of you, not realizing I was already smiling

I felt the time stop when I saw your eyes were already staring

And the air escapes me because you, too, were smiling.]

Becky remembers the voice. It was the same voice that she listened to, the last time she was here. It’s a different song but the warmth of the voice, the quiet surrender to the melodies are all the same.

Freen lets the acoustics reverberate through the emptiness of the room, then she opens her eyes, landing on the actress staring across the room. Then, she smiled her widest, still continuing with the song.

Ang sikat ng araw ay bumabahag-hari,

Dalang mga ulap na umaaligid

Sumasabay sa kulay-rosas na hangin

Halimuyak ng Narra’y tumutulak-bibig

At ang mga ibon ay nagdadalang-awit

Kasabay ang tambol dito sa aking dibdib

‘Di na alam kung sakasakaling

Madarama ko ay bigla kong masabi

[Rainbow forms over the sun

With the iridescence of the clouds that surround

The rose-colored wind blowing

With the scent of Narra filling in

And the birds singing their melodies

That harmonize with the drumming of my heartbeat

I don't know if I'll leave it to fate

That what I feel will finally be revealed]

Freen repeats the same chorus, still smiling at Becky, still looking. And then, suddenly, Becky was lost on the emotions that Freen’s eyes hold, an entire galaxy contained on her orbs. A smile tugs on her lips, her gaze never leaving the expert. The melody and the song echoes, and although Becky didn’t understand, her eyes water with the symphony that’s exploding in front of her.

As Freen finishes the song, she puts down the guitar beside her and spreads her arms wide open, with her gummy smile that reached her eyes.

And Becky? Becky almost trips as she runs towards her girl, tears already falling down her cheeks.

“Shh, I’m here, my love,” Freen coos, kissing Becky’s temple in quiet tears.

“You’re so strong,” she kisses Becky’s left eye.

“You’re gonna be alright,” she kisses the right.

Then, finally, “We’re gonna be alright,” she places a wet but chaste kiss between their sobs. “I’m here now. I’ll ebb just for your tears to flow.”

They hugged each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Then, Freen gently pulls her to sit to her lap. Becky nuzzling her nose on the crook of Freen’s neck while she runs her hand through Becky’s hair, still trying to calm her shaking queen.

“Do you want to talk about it, my love?” Freen asks. When Becky nodded, Freen snaked her arm on the back of Becky’s knees while the other supports her back. She rose, carrying Becky like she weighted nothing and gently sat her down comfortably on one of the booths.

“It’s okay, I asked Mind to close her bar today, so we won’t have to worry about the time,” Freen says. Turning to Irin, she gave her a nod, “Thank you for driving her here safely, Irin.”

“Anything for Becky. Please take care of her, Ted Bundy.”

Freen cracked a small smile at the nickname, “Always,” she replied as she watched Irin’s retreating figure out the door.

“I’m here to listen once you’re ready, my love,” Freen says, kneeling down in front of Becky while tucking a stray lock behind her ears.

After a few minutes, her sobs dwindled.

“I’m so mad,” Becky started, her voice raspy but sharp, her gaze focused on her lap, “I’m furious at her audacity to call me a sinner. The hypocrisy! Like she didn’t demand dad years ago to that she’d file for a divorce if we don’t stop moving around! And I am not even sure when did we become Catholics!”

Freen blinked, “Your mom asked for a divorce?”

Becky clutched her shirt more, “Yes, she did. We were little and she was sick and tired of moving around due to dad’s work. She said that Richie couldn’t have normal childhoods since we never stayed long enough to form a bond with anyone. So, she demanded dad that we settled somewhere, or she’ll file for divorce.

I fucking hate her audacity to call me out when all I did was to do something I have no control over. We were never big on religion at the first place,” Becky continues to rant, her voice now laced with fury, “I don’t even have any idea what my official religion is.”

Becky’s gaze softened when she finally let out her frustrations, “I’m really sorry, teerak,” she said, cupping Freen’s cheeks, “You are not a sin. You will never be a sin. Loving you is not a sin. Loving you has one of the easiest and one of the things I did right. And I will always choose you—”

Freen didn’t let her girlfriend finish as she leaned into her for a languid kiss.

Freen smiled, trying her best not to break down in front of Becky. But Becky noticed the sadness that lingered behind those eyes, the quiet pain that pinned Freen down.

“I know it must have been hard for you to hear all of that,” Becky says, her voice broken once more. “And I couldn’t apologize enough. I would cut her off my life—”

“Please don’t,” Freen says softly. “I just got the number of my mom after many, many years of no contact. Not because I wanted her back to my life, but because I wanted answers to bring me peace. But for you and your mom, you guys still have a chance to mend everything. As much as I won you with my charm, I will also try to win your mom with it,” Freen says, her smile now less broken.

“Plus, I don’t think she has a problem with me because I’m a girl,” Freen continues, chuckling with her realization. “I think she’s just concerned that I got nothing to offer to you. All I can offer is this,” Freen gestures to herself, “Everything that I have and everything that I am.

“But I promise I’ll clean up. I’ve never had any problems with the way I conduct myself before since I always want to go with comfort rather than how I look. But for you, I will compose myself in a way that’s fitting to be with you,” Freen smiles.

Becky shakes her head, “But for me, that’s what makes you stand out. You don’t care about what people think about you. You are just being genuine, just being yourself, and for me, that’s beautiful. Please, don’t ever think that you have to cut pieces of yourself just to fit in.”

Freen sighs and sits beside the actress, cradling her closer. “I know, love. But now, I have to prove to everybody that I earned to be with you, not because they’re important, but because you deserve it.” Freen kisses her temple, placing soft strokes on her head, “Plus, you kept on stealing my hoodies anyway. I might run out of them soon.”

“You’re mine, so your hoodies are mine, too. If I recall correctly, that’s just addition property of equality, right?” Becky says, catching Freen off-guard with her math joke.

Freen’s chest puffed, a little bit proud, but more turned on, “Oh God, I didn’t think I’d love you more.”

Then, Freen caught Becky’s lips on a messy kiss, pouring all of the heavy things that happened today, turning the conversation lighter, making the atmosphere more breathable.

“Sing for me,” Becky says, after some time.

Freen raised her eyebrows, “I thought I just did?”

“Yes, but both times you sang, I didn’t understand any of it,” Becky pouted, “I love your voice and the meaning of your songs, though it eludes me, your melody carries it really well. Please, sing something I can understand,” she said with the doe-eyed pout Freen couldn’t resist.

“Wait, both? But that was the first time I sang to you?”

“Actually, I overheard you once down the balcony. The night you met Nico, you were singing something I couldn’t understand but I think it was also Tagalog,” Becky says, blush already creeping down her face, “I didn’t mean to. I just came out for air and then I heard you. I didn’t know it was you, though.”

“I actually sang that song while thinking about you,” Freen says quietly.

Becky blinked, “Wha—”

“Yeah,” Freen cuts her off, chuckling. “I didn’t know how I would act in front of you. I was trying my hardest not to be close to you, considering you were straight, even after the kiss. I thought you were just vulnerable, that I was just a rebound. That was why I was distant and cold the next days.

“So that night, I poured everything on that song. It was a song about quiet devotion, how beautiful it is to sacrifice for you, to just worship you…” Freen’s gaze was intense, “To just… love you, and to let go,” then, her gaze softened with a smile, “of course, you had to be persistent and melt down the walls.”

They stayed there for a while, teasing and just… being. Then, Freen rose and took the guitar on the stage.

“Alright, I have one that perfectly encapsulates everything I feel for you,” She sat in front of Becky and started plucking the first tunes of the song. Then, her voice rang throughout the empty club once more.

There I was, an empty piece of a shell

Just minding my own world

Without even knowing what love and life were all about

Freen closed her eyes, the image of their first meet-up came to mind. Becky was just someone she met at a parking lot, crying over her father’s death. But somehow, between her quiet sobs and deep dimples, Freen’s attention was caught.

Then you came, you brought me out of the shell

You gave the world to me and before I knew

There I was, so in love with you

The moment she learned Becky’s name, and that she was an actress, she couldn’t shake her feeling that they would meet again under different circumstances. So, she made herself better, in any way she can. Suddenly, she had a purpose. Suddenly, she was not just someone who drifted between abandonment and goodbyes.

You gave me a reason for my being, and I love what I’m feeling

You gave me a meaning to my life

Yes, I’ve gone beyond existing

And it all begun, when I met you

She finishes the song and opened her eyes. She sees her, the same girl who looked so small, hugging her knees through the tears of her loss, but now, even more gorgeous, still crying, but more powerful. And Freen made sure she would always be there to cheer her up, like it was five years ago.

They were pulled out her bubble when the actress received a call from Blaine, telling her that Alex was calling for an all-cast meeting due to script changes and will also introduce new casts for the film.

“Tell Freen to come, too,” Blaine says, “she will also need to be acquainted by the new casts since she’ll be back on set.”

The drive to the location was quiet, broken by occasional banter and not-so-discrete glances. Though the words left by Rawee didn’t completely heal them yet, being together made it softer, easier to handle.

They entered the familiar Victorian building, not holding hands but still near enough to brush with each other. Crews and artists assembled at the lobby while Alex was in front, talking about some changes, the new casts wearing kimonos, were also facing him.

“Oh, here they come. Guys, meet Rebecca Armstrong,” the three people turned their heads as Alex gestured his hand at the entrance, all of their attention on Becky who wore her sunshine smile and dimpled cheeks.

Then, Freen’s breath hitched. Whatever Alex was saying felt distant, muted as she struggled once more to gain her composure.

Because there, in front of them, is the woman she never wanted to see, ever again.

And it was evident that the woman didn’t share her horror and disdain, for between the polite smile that reached her eyes and the low ponytail that allowed strands of her hair to dangle on her face, the moment her eyes landed on Freen, she broke into a wide grin.

“やっと見つけた、チーちゃん。”

(I finally found you, chee.)

Chapter Text

Gentle hands were stroking Freen’s hair, massaging her head. She was laying down, the faint aroma of stale bread and freshly brewed hot cocoa lingers on her nose. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she looks up at the person cradling her.

Smiling back at her, Nanang always carries a gentle warmth that’s too big for her small stature that never failed to ground her. She reaches her pen and notebook that was perched on Freen’s bedside table and wrote something and holds it up so that Freen can read.

“Freen is so brave,” she writes in perfect English. “Freen can do anything she sets her mind into.”

 Suddenly, she felt someone tug her back from the haze of the memory. She looked around, all eyes on her as Alex introduced her as the movie’s consultant. Then, she looks at the woman standing in front of her—the very same one who got to break her heart the first time—and she smiled at Freen, always the smile that makes her eyes disappear.

The smile that used to make Freen’s heart beat fast, that used to haunt her, now does nothing to her. Recovering from her initial shock, she looks at the hand that was tugging one of her Hufflepuff hoodies and traced the figure that connected—Becky.

She looks at her dimpled smile, her perfectly messy hair, the freckles and moles that graces her face and that does it for Freen. Looking at Becky, she broke into the widest grin.

No matter how many times she looked at the person standing beside her, her heart threatening to escape, thumping so loudly that Freen swears Becky could hear it. And in so many ways, she thinks Becky could.

Becky leans to whisper, “Do you know them, teerak?”

For a moment, Freen forgot they were people with them, as often as it does, her mind seemed to forget the world while thinking of Becky. She cleared her throat, shaking off another haze Becky put her into.

“Just the one, my love,” she whispers back. Then, she turns and looks at the girl in a red kimono.

“Rebecca,” Freen addressed her formally, her voice louder for the crowd to hear, “meet Izumi, Hirose Izumi. She’s an old friend.”

She sees Izumi’s grin falter as she hears how Freen addressed her in front of the actress. Becky noticed. Becky always notices. But still, she respectfully bowed her head and joined her palms for a wai, and Izumi formally bowed at Becky in return.

“I’m Rebecca Armstrong,” she said, addressing the new casts.

“Good afternoon, Rebecca-san. I’m Nomura Taichi,” the guy with a sandy hair and a grey hakama, “You all can call me Taichi,” he said, addressing the room.

“And I’m Arata Shohei,” the guy with black hair and glasses, wearing a white hakama politely bowed, “Please just call me Shohei.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Becky says in perfected professionalism and bowed her head once more.

At the back of her mind, Freen knows it isn’t entirely true. Izumi wasn’t just a friend. But with everything that was happening between them, telling Becky who Izumi is. Becky has enough burdens for today. She genuinely thinks it isn’t necessary to let Becky worry over nothing.

Though, the memory lingered at the back of her mind. Why was she suddenly remembering her grandma? Was it because it was the day she confessed about how she truly felt about Izumi? She remembers falling asleep from crying after she had admitted how she feels about her sexuality.

She remembers Nanang asking many questions about it, trying her hardest to understand what Freen meant. A stroke made her body even more fragile, more hunched as she struggled to speak, unable to move her tongue at all.

In the end, that was what took her. She shakes her thoughts away from the past and focuses on Alex and the person discretely holding her hand. For now, Freen is only relieved that no part of her ached for Izumi anymore and that she was completely and utterly Becky’s.

Alex continued with discussing some changes on the set, they barely noticed Nam as she approached them, sitting on the empty seat beside Freen.

“Okay, what was that?” Nam said, quietly whispering so that only Freen and Becky could hear.

Freen raised her brows, “What was what?”

“The Japanese shit Hirose-san said—”

“And the way she grinned at you like she knows you more than I do,” Becky says in quiet jealousy, “and the way her grin faltered when you said she’s your old friend.”

Freen chuckles, “Well, she is.” She shifted her hold on Becky’s hand and intertwines it, bringing it on her lips and presses a kiss on Becky’s. “I told you, haven’t I? I’m yours. Every inch.”

Nam coughed, “People are around, you romantic fuck,” she addresses Freen, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Keep it in your pants!”

“Keep what on my pants? I don’t have anything on my pants, Nam!” Freen loudly whispered, which earned a giggle from Becky.

They talked about what happened with Rawee earlier while they were on their way. They told Nam about it while they sat through Alex’s ramblings. Nam only nodded, but a look crossed both Freen and Nam in quiet understanding: We’ll talk about it later.

They both decided that it was best for the two of them to keep their relationship a secret on the set for now since it was concerning that there are pictures of them on it.

Becky really thought everyone at the set could be trusted and was very hurt when those pictures surfaced. So, until they find out who took those pictures, they can’t risk anything. Especially with the new casts present, they ought to be more careful with how they will conduct themselves in front of others.

Alex was done with his announcement, and the crowd slowly disperses, going back to their usual routine. Standing from their seats, they say their goodbyes to Nam. Since technically, Becky is still on her day off and Freen asked to work remotely, they started planning things to do for the rest of the day, and about their plans for the kids tomorrow and how excited Bumi about Becky visiting once more.

“Are you sure you can come?” Freen asked on their way out. “If you have anything urgent that’s coming, it’s okay. Just tell me about it, hmm?”

Becky nodded. And with that, they decided to keep a small distance with each, exiting the place with Freen first and Becky following closely.

However, they were stopped when Freen felt another tug on her jacket

She held the hand and gently releasing it from her jacket. Thinking it was Becky, she sweetly whispered, “Baby, not here—”

Then, her eyes widened when she saw whose hand she was clutching.

“Izumi!” Freen exclaimed, letting go of her hand like the touch burned her.

Then, she looked past Izumi and saw Becky, her brows furrowed, crumpling at the middle while her lips were pressed into a thin line. Quiet anger seeps through as she observes the interaction happening in front of h er. And with her eagle eyes, Becky noticed how Izumi’s eyes shone with the endearment, a blush reddening on her face.

Izumi blinked, “B-baby?”

Freen’s gaze went back to Izumi, “No, no, Izumi-san. You misunderstand—”

But Izumi didn’t let her finish. Too ecstatic with what Freen called her, she wrapped her arms around Freen, like she was coming home from a long exile.

“Oh, chee, I was so sure that you wouldn’t forgive me,” she said, nuzzling her head on the crook of Freen’s neck, inhaling her scent and tightening her embrace even more.

Freen flinched at the feeling like it burned her. Freen pries herself away from Izumi’s touch. Stepping back and holding Izumi’s shoulder at her arm’s length, “No, Izumi. What are you talking about? I’m sorry but you’re misunderstanding everything. I mistook you for someone. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Chee, please—”

Whatever Izumi was about to say was cut off by a very cold, ruthless voice.

“You heard her,” Becky says calmly, but her eyes were reflecting the coldness of her tone. Her gaze bore onto Izumi, making her flinch and step back in fear.

“R-Rebecca-san,” Izumi said, her voice was confused but fear evident on her voice.

Then, her gaze turned Freen, same cold, ruthless gaze, as she slowly approached them. “Who is she, really, Freen?”

The way Becky was trying to fight her inner demon not to claw and gouge Izumi’s eyes out for touching Freen was evident. It should scare Freen. Fright should have torn a way to Freen’s heart. But alas, it stupidly fluttered with the quiet and secret possessiveness Becky’s words held.

Freen’s face softened, shy smile from her lips. Coughing the lump on her throat and scolding herself for being down so fucking bad for Becky, she remembers that their relationship must now remain a secret. So, she calls her, not by her endearment, not by how she truly felt, but by her name.

“Becky,” she said, the actress’s name smoothly rolling out of her tongue, making sure that her tone was sweet, gentle—loving. “She’s just a friend.”

“A-A friend?” Izumi’s voice broke, “Was that who I really am to you, chee?”

Freen turns to Izumi, her face was indifferent, professional, “Yes, of course.”

“Then, who is she to you?” Izumi asked, her tone was now hurt, “Is she your friend the same way as I was to you?”

Freen’s gaze turned to Becky, now standing beside her.

They didn’t touch.

They didn’t hug each other possessively.

They maintained their small, professional distance.

But their gaze towards each other was enough to convey what they meant to each other.

“No,” Freen says, gaze never leaving Becky, “she is far, far more special than that.”

Then, Freen took Becky’s hand and led them towards her car. Izumi watched as Freen opens the door for Becky, assists her on climbing the passenger seat, and draws her seatbelt for her.

As soon as they settled down, “Becky? Really? Did you just call me ‘Becky’ in front of someone who just possessively hugged you in front of me?” Becky seethes, anger and jealousy clouding her judgement. “Is she really your friend? Why do I feel like she’s more than that? And why does she call you chee? What the fuck is chee, even?”

Freen raised her brows, “Love, didn’t we talk about this? We cannot let anyone know,” Freen coos, her hand reaching out to Becky’s cheeks, “And of course, I promise. She’s just a friend. I told you, right? I’m yours,” she takes Becky’s hand and presses a kiss on it, “every inch,” she continued.

“You can’t get me with that, Sarocha,” Becky says, images of Izumi’s embrace still danced on her memory. “Tell me the truth now!”

Freen paused, keeping her voice steady, “I told you, she’s just an old friend,” her resolve not quivering as she tries hard to mask herself through the lie. "She calls me chee because apparently, when I was a kid, I knew a lot and chee is the Japanese word for knowledge."

“I’m yours and will always be yours,” she continued. At least, that was not a lie. She didn’t want any more unnecessary drama for Becky tonight, especially since they still have to deal with Becky’s mom. Because no matter how much Freen tells herself that she was okay with it, she can still feel the shattered pieces inside of her every time she breathes.

But Becky, oh, so trusting Becky, believed it.

A gentle smile tugs on her lips, feeling giddy with the reassurance Freen has always given. And that broke Freen a little. They fell into easy rhythm, lungs hurting as they scream lyrics of random musical soundtracks Freen made Becky listen to.

But the back of Freen’s mind was an array of things as she struggles between protecting Becky’s piece of mind and just being transparent with Becky about her thoughts and insecurities. They were jamming to Waitress soundtrack What Baking Can Do when Becky lowers the volume.

“Love,” Becky calls, pulling Freen out of her silent spiral. “It’s the premier of my movie with Janus on Friday. I will be busy the whole day, and I don’t think I’ll be able to see you. We’ll have conferences and preparations to make.”

Freen hummed, nodding “I understand, my love,” she said, glancing momentarily at Becky then bringing her eyes back on the road, “why don’t you let me treat my big star for dinner? I’ve stocked my fridge. Since we probably can’t do it tomorrow, let me cook for you tonight, hmm?”

Becky perked up, smiling like a child. It’ll be her first time tasting Freen’s cooking. “I look forward to it, teerak.” Then, her voice suddenly faltered, gloom was obvious on her tone. “I’m sorry again for not being able to invite you to it. I wish you’d be there with me,”

Then, Becky’s voice grew a little more hopeful. “But don’t worry, I’ll have a surprise for you then.”

Freen raised her brows once more, her face turning to Becky’s direction while her gaze was still on the road, “What is it?” she said, her excitement barely contained on her tone.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and stay tuned at the conference for you to find out,” Becky said teasingly.

They pulled over Freen’s apartment as Becky started wearing her disguise. Finally pulling the Dodgers’ cap on her head, Becky takes Freen’s waiting hand and slides out of the car.

Once the door clicked shut behind Freen, Becky immediately peppers her face with kisses, whispering “You’re mine,” in between. Freen just chuckles and would always reply, “All yours,” every time.

“Alright, alright,” Freen held Becky’s face steady and presses a chaste kiss on her lips, “You wash up and I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”

Once done showering, Becky instantly slipped one of Freen’s hoodies and one of her cotton shorts that she left here before. Opening the door to the hallway, she was immediately hit by the aroma of seasonings coming from the kitchen.

The steak was searing beautifully at the cast iron pan, hints of rosemary, garlic and butter danced through the air. Freen let the steak sizzle on the pan while she wore a black glove to peel the potatoes on the counter.

Freen wore a black apron, her hoodie placed neatly on the couch, and her hair tied on her usual messy bun as she flexes her hand, carefully fitting the glove on her hand. Becky bit her lower lip. She didn’t know Freen would be as hot as her kitchen while cooking.

“Hello there,” Becky says, sneaking a kiss on Freen’s cheek as she wraps her arms on her girlfriend’s waist.

Freen giggled, “General Kenobi,” she said as she tried to make her voice robotic, turning around to face Becky, “You’re a bold one,” she continued.

Becky rolled her eyes at the Star Wars reference, “Ugh, nerd—very hot—but still, nerd.”

Freen leaned in and stole a kiss, maneuvering herself out of Becky’s grasps as she carefully put the steak on the oven, setting a timer for 5 minutes.

Becky sat on the counter, her elbows propped on the kitchen aisle as she quietly watched Freen gently peel the potatoes using her hand and put it on a sieve, careful not to make any lumps on her mashed potatoes. Freen then put it back to the casserole waiting on the stove with stick of butter and a ton of cheddar and mozzarella.

Becky set up the table on the small balcony, utensils and glasses on each side, a flickering candle luminating the intimate moment. Bangkok air was gently tousling her hair, low light from the inside seeping through. She looks inside as she sees Freen carefully carve the perfectly cooked T-Bone and plate it with the mashed potatoes and gravy. Cradling both plates on her hands and a bottle of wine tucked under her arm, she juggles as she makes her way towards the balcony.

Becky rushes to help Freen with the wine and went to the kitchen to get the ice bucket on the counter.

“Thank you, love,” Freen says, after she placed the plates on each side of the table, pulling a chair for Becky.

Settling down, Becky digs into the food while Freen propped up her elbows on the table, waiting for Becky’s reaction. Then, Becky raised her hand to her lips, her eyes wide.

“Oh my God!” she said, closing her eyes, savoring the steak, “Teerak, had I known you were this good, I would’ve bought you groceries myself, weeks ago!”

Freen just chuckles, blush creeping into her ears, “Of course! You don’t get to be roommates with Iris for so long and not get scolded about steaks being well-done.”

After that, the dinner went quiet. Not the usual quiet that lets you curl up and relax. No, this silence, it made the clanking of utensils seem too loud, too suffocating, like a stubborn weight pressing down that makes it hard to breathe. They both know that the lump they’re both swallowing didn’t come from the perfectly smooth mashed potatoes and perfectly rare steak.

It was the lump from how, after many years of searching, Freen finally found Alice. And how her head was still reeling with those thoughts when Rawee’s words came barging in, too intentional, too true.

And within the silence, Becky felt it. Becky felt how forced the conversation is. The banter between them seemed a little harder. That even though they’re together to celebrate, the weight of the day still presses on them, stubbornly clinging to the very air they breathe.

And Izumi.

Becky trusts Freen when she told her that she was just her friend. But Izumi’s question burned on her thoughts.

‘Is she your friend the same way as I was to you?’

It felt weighted, like too much history was hidden between those carefully curated words. And although Freen reassured her, she still felt like Freen wasn’t telling her the whole truth. But until Freen is ready to open up about it, Becky won’t force it out on her.

Despite the heavy silence and the thick tension between them, they both smiled like nothing’s broken.

Becky was putting out the last of the plates on the rack when she sees Freen sitting on the couch with the TV open. But her gaze was not focused, distant. It felt like there were too many thoughts ringing on her head.

She slowly approached Freen and gently put her hand on the expert’s waist, “What’s wrong, teerak?”

Freen blinked like someone trying to silence the loudness of her thoughts. “It’s nothing, love. I’m just thinking about the topics I will discuss for the kids tomorrow.”

Becky sees through Freen’s lie. Because if she really was thinking about tomorrow, she would have been smiling, thinking of clever metaphors to explain how gravity works. But the frown was evident on her brows.

Despite knowing, Becky didn’t push. She gives her space and still tries to cheer Freen up.

“Do you want to watch a movie? It’s still early, anyway.”

Freen shakes her head, “Sorry, love. I am a little tired. Can I take a rain check? And you need to go home now. Don’t you have a quick meeting with Blaine tomorrow?”

Becky nods, still understanding Freen’s need for space.

They pull up at Becky’s building after a silent ride. As if needing to reassure Freen, Becky unbuckles her seat and reach out to cup Freen’s cheek.

“No matter what happens, know that I am always here for you, teerak.” Becky says, all the warmth and sincerity behind her voice, “I’m here to listen once you’re ready to tell anyone whatever it is you’re holding back. And I am very lucky to be the one to love you for a long, long time.”

--

Staring at the ceiling of her now quiet apartment, Freen reels in everything that happened today. She had long taken Becky back home after sorting through tomorrow’s loot for the Narra tree session. Now with all the distractions gone, she let herself feel everything.

The way Becky’s mom belittled her because of the way she conducted herself, how she had managed to point out every little insecurity Freen had with just their 5-minute interaction back at Iris’s restaurant.

Freen is the type of person that doesn’t really care much about what other people thinks. ‘If you have a problem with me, then, text it to me,’ as Tom Holland says, ‘And if you don’t have my number, then you don’t know me enough to have a problem with me.’

But as much as she hates to admit, Rawee’s words weighed heavily on her chest. No matter how she thinks that Rawee doesn’t really know who she is before judging her, it is hard to ignore the fact that she is her girlfriend’s mom. And her opinion will always matter.

Becky’s voice echoed on Freen’s thoughts. ‘I’m so, so lucky that I get to be the one who will love you for a long, long time.’ It broke her how sure Becky was, that they’d be with each other for a long time when a crippling fear envelops her, saying that it’ll only be a matter of time until Becky finds someone who’s the perfectly fit for her, her world, and the world’s expectations for her partner.

And Freen? She knows she’s not worthy. And yet, the selfish part of her lets her indulge with the feeling of Becky’s love. Even for a small, fleeting time.

She also wanted to tell Becky about Izumi, but she convinced herself that she was just really her friend, and that they never really got together despite what Freen felt. Plus, it’s not that the girl from her past made her feel anything anymore.

Hovering her thumb over Becky’s name, she contemplated about calling her and wanted to tell her about everything she’s been feeling—that she was not really okay with what happened, that it shattered her more than she cared to admit, and the feeling of not being worthy for her. But she didn’t want to hurt Becky more, her broken laugh echoing on Freen’s mind. She didn’t want to burden Becky with these thoughts that slowly consumes her.

Deciding to go for silence to keep the little peace they had, she puts her phone on the nightstand and let the quiet and the wary of today lull her to sleep.

The sound of Howl’s Theme blared through the walls like a warm symphony that wakes the world through the silence of the morning. Freen opens one of her eyes to reach for her phone before swiping it to answer the call, not bothering to look at the screen.

“Good morning, my love,” Freen says, knowing that the ringing tone was just for Becky.

“Good morning, teerak,” Becky replied, already jogging on her treadmill. “Please wake up. I miss you already,” she said.

Running her hand through her face, Freen sighs and raises, “Yes, my Queen, I’m awake. I’m awake,” Freen grumbles, totally not awake.

“Wait, baby, mom is calling me.” Becky says, “I’ll call you back.”

Plopping back to the comforts of her bed, Freen stared at the ceiling for a few minutes as she readies herself on another Thursday with the kids. She moves through her space, collecting all the things she needed while she waits for her coffee to brew on the machine.

As she finishes up with her routine, sliding onto one of her comfortable shirts, she messages Becky that she’s ready and on her way to fetch her. She pulls up over the parking lot of Becky’s luxurious apartment and started calling her, only for the line to be dead.

‘Huh, that’s weird,’ Freen thought, ‘Maybe she forgot to charge her phone again.’

She exhales loudly and puts on a mask and a cap, entering Becky’s building. Since she’s been with Becky for a few times now, the receptionist didn’t question who she is already.

“I’m afraid Miss Becky already left earlier today,” the receptionist said.

Freen nods and thanks the girl and heads back to her car.

Even more puzzled now, she messaged Blaine as to where they were or if there were any event Becky was pulled. She waited until her message ticks double, indicating that Blaine already saw the message.

Blaine: Hi, Freen. No, as far as I am concerned, she asked me a week ago to clear her schedule every Thursdays.

She thanks Blaine for the information and messages Becky to tell her that she will go ahead and buy the usual meals for the kids and will just wait for her under the Narra tree.

It has been an hour since she arrived at their usual shade under the Narra tree, kids were playing with each other while the older ones are scrolling boredly through their old phones.

“Guys, are you sure you want to wait for Becky?” Freen asked the kids, “She might not come,” she says, her voice betraying a crack of disappointment.

The children collectively stop and shook their heads no. Then the smallest kid stepped up, fidgeted his fingers, and reluctantly tugs the hem of Freen’s jacket.

“P’Becky won’t come?” Bumi says pouting, “She promised she’d read to us again. So I’m sure she will. We just need to wait. Right, P’Freen?”

And that? That broke Freen a little. Not because Becky wasn’t there, but because she’d been clear from the start. She asked Becky tons of times if she’s really free, if she’ll really be there and not to get the kids’ hopes up.

As the day near its noon, there are still no words from Becky as. She tries to call Becky countless of times, messages her again to no avail. She was beginning to worry about the actress’s safety, so she messages Blaine once more, asking if she’d heard anything from the actress. Blaine reassures that Becky is fine and that her mom just called her to inform that she will spend the day with her daughter.

Minutes bleed into more hours, Freen cannot stand the way the kids now look so dejected, not anymore. So she stands up and clapped her hands, and trying to be as cheerful as possible for the kids. “Okay guys,” she says, and for the first time, she puts her mask on with the kids, hiding how her heart dropped every second that ticks by without anything from Becky. “P’Becky says there was something she needed to go to first and that she is sorry that she won’t be able to come today.”

She smiles, trying her hardest to be as cheerful as possible, “Don’t worry, I will make sure that she will make it up to you guys next time. Is that okay?”

Slowly, the kids begun distributing their meals, passing them to each other. The usual banter that envelops the huge Narra tree every Thursday was absent as the kids silently eat, sad that their beautiful burger lady is not here as she promised.

The older kids were silent as well, stealing glances at Freen and how thick the atmosphere has become. They looked at each other, as if gathering courage to say something to Freen, and of course, Freen noticed.

“Phi, we were thinking, we could take over for today,” Non says while closely studying Freen, “we think you should just rest.”

“Non,” Freen sighs, “I appreciate it, but I can’t possibly—”

“Please, Phi,” Kade steps in, always with her quiet observations, “we noticed that you’re really bothered about P’Becky and with other things. We insist. We can take it from here.”

And with a nod, she says goodbye to the kids under the Narra tree, her thoughts too scattered for the day ahead.

Nonetheless, Freen found herself pulling up on the curb near Becky’s place, still calling, still texting, still reaching her out. The sun was beginning to sink when she decided to leave, tons of questions and nagging doubt still clinging to her.

Tomorrow would be the premier of Becky and Janus’s movie. It stung that she won’t be able to attend it with Becky, to stand next to her and tell her how proud she is. She just sighed quietly and smiled that even though she won’t be there, she didn’t fail to tell Becky how proud she is with her.

Dropping by a nearby convenience store on her way home, she picked her dinner among all of the pre-packed meals, picking up a six-pack and some snacks. She plans to just stay the night and try to get the sleep she lost last night with the help of some beer.

On her way out, she was surprised when she heard someone calling her. She saw Izumi gently walking towards her with her usual confident smile and her low ponytail that always leaves some strands unmanaged.

“Hi, chee,” Izumi says once she caught up with Freen.

“What are you doing here, Izumi-san?” Freen replied, still indifferent, still professional.

“Oh, come on! Please drop the polite tone,” Izumi groaned.

“But—”

“As you told Rebecca-san, I am still your friend, am I?”

Freen just narrowed her eyes in suspicion, releasing an audible sigh.

“I live here,” Izumi says, pointing at Freen’s building.

‘Oh great, she lives here, too. I just might need to move at my other apartment permanently,’ Freen thought.

“Okay, that’s nice. Have a good night,” Freen says as she quickens her pace, cutting their conversation short.

“Chee, wait!” Izumi called, “Do you want to go to Rebecca-san’s movie premier with me?”

Freen stopped on her track and turned. “How—”

“The director gave me two tickets. She’s an old friend of mine and she says I could bring a date,” Izumi says sheepishly.

“Oh, then, no thanks—”

“Don’t be so quick to reject me, now. It’s just a friendly one. And lowkey, too. We don’t need to dress up or anything. I won’t be there as an actress. Promise, it’s just something friendly, since I think you’re courting Miss Rebecca.”

Freen raised her brows, “What made you think so?”

Izumi smiled, this time, it’s a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She avoided Freen’s gaze, shifting instead on the floor, “I just know,” she said quietly.

“Izumi—”

“Chee, come on, I know,” Izumi says, her voice a little too cheerful now, “If you’re courting Rebecca-san, then, as long as you guys aren’t together yet, I’ll court you, instead!”

“No, Izumi—”

“Shh, just… for now, let me take you to her so that you can personally see how stunning she is,” Izumi winked and with a knowing tone, “you always do have the best type. Come on, take it as a favor from an old friend”

Izumi handed her the ticket and a pass. “This will also have an access to the interview rooms, so that you could get a proper glimpse of her from somewhere. Don’t tell me you prefer it on a screen?”

Sighing to Izumi’s antics, “Alright, alright, I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember, I don’t like spotlights, so when you said lowkey, I mean lowkey. No red-carpet bullshit, okay?”

Izumi raised her hands in mock surrender, “Of course, of course,” Izumi says, chuckling.

Freen settles down early for the night with three beers helping her sleep early.

She wakes up on the sound of a wheezing TARDIS on her bedside table, her alarm clock. And the next thing she knew, she was slipping on a white satin, unbuttoned enough to show some skin, and a tailored slacks and blazer.

She knows she told Izumi that she would keep it lowkey, but Freen is a clown and when she imagined how Becky will look today, she just couldn’t help but to dress up nicely for her.

Though there are still no calls and messages came from the actress, Freen worries about how they left things between each other that night. She could only sigh and thinks that Becky doesn’t have the time because her full schedule for today. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself…

She shook herself away from those thoughts and started driving towards the event since she and Izumi agreed to just meet at the venue.

“Look at you, all tidied up!” Izumi says, pulling her on a tight hug.

Freen awkwardly tapped her back and immediately separated herself from Izumi while murmuring “Thanks.”

“Their conference is starting. Do you want to head there now?”

Freen nodded.

The room was packed with cameras, lights, reporters, and chatters of executives at the table. Janus was already there at the center, his posture relaxed, and an easy smile was on his face when Becky came out. Wearing her hair on a messy bun—no, not like the messy bun that Freen always adorned. Her hair was styled like that, almost like Becky telling her, ‘I carry a little bit of you, even if it’s just on my hairstyle’.

Strands of her hair were grazing her face. She wore a white dress over a white cape with little feathers on it, wind blowing not just her hair but her cloak, making her look like an angel as she walks towards the center of the table.

But this Becky looked so stunning that Freen literally gasped and gaped.

‘Fuck, my Becky’s so… I don’t even know how to describe her, and I know seven different languages for beautiful,’ Freen thought.

With Becky now present, the conference started. The reporters asked their questions, directed towards the executives, sometimes towards Becky, sometimes towards Janus, and they answered it with professional politeness and careful wordings. It was, however, one question that piqued Freen’s interest and made her sit on the edge of her chair.

“Miss Becky,” a male reporter with a confident stance asked, “Are you still single? Or are you and Mister Janus already dating?”

Becky chuckled, no, not her carefree laugh that Freen always hears. This sound was a little too controlled, too polished.

“I am still single,” Becky says, which, of course, Freen anticipated, but still, it did sting a bit.

But then, Becky continued, “But there’s someone, though, and they are very, very special suitor to me,” and that made Freen smile so wide that when Becky looked at the crowd, her gaze landed on Freen. Her mouth opened a little due to shock, but her lips immediately curled with a shy smile.

The reporter now turned to Janus with the same question. Clearing his throat, he smiled at Becky, that perfectly charming smile that made people swoon.

“Of course I am,” Janus said, his gaze never leaving Becky’s face, “But I’m here to tell you that I am be officially courting Miss Armstrong.”

What a fucking surprise, indeed.

Chapter Text

With that revelation, the media rose on their feet, the commotion that Janus did behind his well-polished smile was a storm. In a way, Janus insinuated that it was he who Becky was talking about. It was all too much that the organizers decided to cut the conference short.

Excited whispers and murmurs about the how ‘the hottest on-screen couple was on the verge of making it real’ follow their wake as people filed out of the room, the lights that the media carried were unplugged to be put on other places. The chatter died down, and Becky and Janus was long ushered onto the red carpet and onto the program.

But Freen?

Freen was left there.

The huge, empty conference hall now felt too little, too loud.

She felt a little too aware of the uncomfortable clothes that clung to her, no matter how luxurious it is. Loosening the buttons off her crisp satin, she tried to breathe as she hears her gasps too loud and too muffled at the same time.

The stale taste of panic lingering on her mouth as she swallows lumps and lumps of dread as she recalls everything.

Because even if she knows deep down that Becky was talking about her, it still broke her how Janus just claimed it for himself so easily, so effortlessly, like he was returning home into something he never get to call his at the first place.

Because it was Freen’s.

It was supposed to be Freen’s.

Now, it just feel like she was outside looking in, while Janus gets to publicly claim the sanctuary she built with Becky.  

And the worst part? She understood.

She understood, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Understanding doesn’t come with detachment.

That doesn’t mean Freen didn’t drown on the air that was supposed to keep her alive.

Was that the surprise Becky was thinking about? Was that the reason why she went radio-silent on her and the kids? Why she broke her promise and gave them false hope?

No.

It must not be.

That’s not Becky.

It couldn’t be Becky.

Right?

Her gaze still fixed on nothing in particular, she stands up, all the lingering smile and the fluttering feeling she felt was crushed. Not because she was jealous, not because she had the right to be.

No. It was not jealousy.

It was reality.

And Janus?

Janus reminded her of it with just an answer to an innocent question.

Janus had put her on her place, intentionally or not, behind polished smile or sarcastic smirk.

The worst part? He didn’t just shatter Freen’s confidence, he also broke Becky’s courage.

Because Freen knows how long Becky gathered that much bravery, within every restraint, every touch that lingered too long, every disguise she had to put just to be with Freen in the public.

Freen knew how long Becky cupped the little droplets of courage painstakingly every day, not to fully out herself just yet, but to tell the world that there was someone who already took her heart, who made her feel complete.

And somehow, that broke her heart even more. Because Freen can take whatever shit the world gives her.

Someone from the past creeping back to her life? She can take it, she has Becky’s smile.

Someone estranged and abandoned her looking to reconnect? She can take it, she has Becky’s warmth.

Someone leaving death threats on her car, unknown calls at the dead of night with disguised voices that laced with danger? She can take it, she has Becky’s hands.

But when someone disrespects Becky like that? When someone tips away the cup that Becky has been building and nursing for the past few weeks?

May the gods forgive her.

For she will burn the world just so Becky could go unscathed.

She didn’t watch the movie.

She couldn’t.

She called Blaine, asked if she could stay on their dressing room and told her not to tell Becky, and just to wait. For what, she doesn’t know. An explanation, perhaps? Something tangible, something she could hold on to.

And she sat there, eyes fixed on nothing in particular but still composed, still indifferent, as if she was not drowning on her own thoughts, as if breathing doesn’t fill her lungs with water.

Then, a movement.

The door opens to Becky, her back turned, facing Janus as she laughs about whatever he said. They haven’t noticed the sharp gaze that was silently observing them across the room and the quiet storm she carried.

Once Janus closed the door, Freen didn’t waste time.

Her body reacted before her brain caught up. She took three strides towards them and slammed Janus on the wall, her forearm on his neck.

“How dare you!” Freen hissed, pressing her forearm harder against his neck, “do you have any idea how much courage it took Becky just to say that? How dare you desecrate it so easily?” Her voice was calm, too calm, too low, but her eyes once vivid browns now shone stormy grays.

And Becky stood there, too shocked, too frozen on the sudden rage. Then, before she could stop herself, “Freen! Stop! Let go of him!” she shouted and pushed Freen so hard that she stumbled and fell.

Too dumbfounded by Becky’s reaction, it took a few seconds for Freen to register what happened. She saw Becky as she made sure Janus was not seriously hurt then turned to Freen.

“What are you doing here?” Becky asks, her hands still on Janus’s arms.

Freen blinked, the question pulling her out of her shock, “What?” Freen says, her voice now felt foreign, muffled.

“I said what are you doing here, Miss Chankimha?” Becky repeats, her tone laced with indifference and practiced poise.

“I—I was just—”

“You think you could just attack people out of the blue?”

“I—I thought—”

“You thought what, Miss Chankimha?” Janus says, recovering from the initial shock.

And before she could answer, Becky interjects. “We’re done here, Miss Chankimha. You can leave now.”

“I see,” Freen says, finally standing up. Once again, she put her well-polished mask and brushes off the dust from her fall. “I apologize for the intrusion and for the violence. Rest assured, it won’t happen again.”

As she turned, she heard Janus say, “Yeah it better be!”

But she didn’t turn back.

She couldn’t.

Not when she can still see how Becky protectively clung to him.

Freen quietly left the room, the door behind her clicked gently on its place. She barely registered anything that was happening around her. Someone calls her, though, she didn’t know who. She didn’t turn. All she could do was to focus on breathing, on trying to get away from that room as far as she can.

So, she slipped back to her car and drove off. Off to her fortress of solitude, her recluse, to a place not even her closest friends know. No one except Mac.

She didn’t know how she got there, how she was able to drive and park. The next thing she knew, she was back at her sleek apartment that screamed luxury, screamed extravagance, but never warmth, never comfort.

The easel was still there, still propped against the painting of their first night. The journals still lay on stack, untouched, dust accumulated on top of each with weeks of non-disturbance.

The weekend blurred with cigarette packs and liquors, one burnt and drank after the other. She barely glanced at her phone, didn’t bother if it was charged or not. The taste of the decades-old scotch burned her throat the same way that the mint of nicotine soothes her chest.

She’d like to say it helped her feel numb. She’d like to say that it somehow made it dull. That it didn’t hurt every time she resurfaces for air after days of drowning on misery.

But every time she closes her eyes, she sees how disappointed and mad Becky was. When she closes her eyes, she could see how pathetic she was on that ground, too shocked and frozen to register anything.

Maybe, Janus was right.

And maybe, it was Janus who Becky was talking about after all.

Maybe, Becky finally woke up and realized Freen was not worth it after all.

God, she was never a violent person. Her badge of yellow and black badger she made sure she wore with pride—the Hufflepuff crest—was a testament to that. She always strived to be good, to be gentle, and above all, to be kind.

She didn’t know what happened. She just snapped when she saw how easy it was for Janus to be entitled to everything; how smug he looked with how the media frenzied around his revelation. And Becky—Becky just stood there, laughing with him like he didn’t just steal everything Becky and Freen had been building.

‘We’re done here, Miss Chankimha,’ Becky’s voice echoed on the silent walls, ‘You can go now,’ she said, haunting her thoughts as she smoked and drunk herself into oblivion as her vision failed, her consciousness slipping.

She woke up with a start, glass of scotch still on her hand, three bottles from previous night lay carelessly discarded on the balcony as few streaks of early dawn luminates the city below. Freen clutched her head, fighting a hangover, a cigarette butt still clung to her fingers.

It’s Monday now, means she needs to get ready for the script revisions that Alex instructed her to assist the scriptwriters on.

Taking two Advils, she mechanically turned on her espresso machine, the grinding of the coffee beans filled the cold kitchen, a sliver of comfort permeates the atmosphere as she prepares for the day.

Stepping out of the shower and scrubbing off the alcohol and nicotine that clung into her skin, she takes out a simple crisp tee on top of a Dodgers jersey and loose jogger pants.

It didn’t scream elegance.

It didn’t scream expensive.

But it was enough to scream dominance, enough for people to second guess themselves before they approached. She rolled up the sleeves as she slips onto her sneakers, putting on a pair of dark shades to mask how her eyes looked.

She parked at her usual spot, still with her blue Eco Sport, her TARDIS. Gathering the script and her laptop, she puts on her Sennheiser, continuing with Andy Serkis’s narration of Lord of the Rings. As she steps out of her car, she immediately heads towards the writer’s office, her head down without glancing at anyone, cradling the unfinished revisions she was supposed to work on the days prior.

She immediately busies herself, drowning everything else with work, tuning out every hushed conversation, every muffled laughter. She was revising the protagonist’s script on the discussions of Discrete Mathematics when someone yanks off her headphones, interrupting just when Frodo’s gang reached Bree.

Startled, Freen hissed, “What’s your problem—”

“Where were you?” Becky interrupted, half of her bare face was covered with her over-sized glasses. Even without glam, even with the pain, she still effortlessly took Freen’s breath away.

Breathing heavily, “Good morning, Miss Armstrong,” she said and bowed with practiced professionalism, her voice devoid of any warmth, just professional, tired. “Do you have any questions regarding the script?” she asked, ignoring Becky’s question.

“I said, where were you?” Becky’s voice cracked with pain and something heavier, maybe anger?

Still with her detached tone, “I believe that question is not on the scope of my job here, Miss Armstrong. I’m afraid I can’t answer you.”

“The entire weekend, I cannot get a hold of you. I visited you, waited outside your apartment all day, but you never came home.” Becky’s voice let out a sob, “you disappeared on me again when you promised not to.”

“Oh? And why would you do that? I’m just someone you work with, someone whom you consult with your scripts.”

“Please, teerak,” her voice now desperate as she tries to swallow her sobs. She tries to reach Freen’s arms. “Please let me explain—”

“Teerak? Who are you calling ‘teerak’, Miss Armstrong?” Freen’s voice was cold, her gaze looking around mockingly, flinching on Becky’s attempt to touch her, “certainly not me. I’m not your ‘teerak’. We’re done, right? You made that very, very clear.”

“Freen, no… please just let me explain. Janus was just—”

“Janus is there,” Freen says, nodding towards the glass door. As if on cue, Janus opens it and walks in. Becky immediately stiffens.

“Becky?” Janus stayed on the door, his hand still holding it open, charming smile already plastered on his face. “I rented a stall of your favorite matcha place. They’re here to serve everyone the whole day. Do you want to check it out?”

“J-Janus, you’re here,” Becky says, her voice now different, devoid of the softness and the pleas she had with Freen. She forced a smile, “Can you wait outside for a moment? I just have to ask something with Freen—”

“No, no,” Freen says, already putting back her headphones, “I believe we’re done here, Miss Armstrong. You can go now.”

And with that, Freen went back to work, drowning on Andy Serkis, revising scripts, making sure that the formulas written are correct. She didn’t look at the girl still standing beside her, still looking at her.

No, she didn’t dare.

Because once she did, Freen knows she’ll break.

And she can’t afford to break. Not again.

The position she holds was clear as day. Becky made sure of that. She was just someone who gets to hold her close until someone else takes her place. Then, just like what Becky did, Freen was the one who gets to be shoved away and left to stand on her own.

It was clear. No amount of alcohol or nicotine can change that anymore. No amount of delusion and blunder can make her unsee the way Becky looked at her that night.

After a few minutes, Becky left with Janus and Freen was finally alone again.

But still, she didn’t let any tear fall. She still held everything in, didn’t let anything slip through the cracks. Because if she did, she wasn’t sure how to make it stop. So, she buries herself with more work.

Once the script revisions are done, she gathers everything and heads towards Alex. She mechanically explains every revision, every term to every cast member including Becky, but never once let the professionalism slip. Her eyes barren of any emotion—just cold, calculating.

And when her job was done, she quietly slips through the room, still avoiding every gaze, tucking her headphones back in, still on her own world with Frodo and Sam and Merry and Pippin and their little adventures of second breakfasts and Strider. At least, here, she could pretend she was strong and fighting goblins and the Nazgul instead of taking every breath in sulfur.

She was on her way back to her office, papers carelessly tucked on her arm, when she felt someone jumped at her from behind.

Startled, she immediately tugs down her headphones and looked behind.

“Chee!”

‘Ah, Izumi.’ Freen taught. She didn’t know why she was disappointed.

“You owe me lunch,” Izumi said, arms still clinging to Freen’s neck, weight still slightly on Freen.

Freen raised her brow, trying to pry out of Izumi’s embrace, “Why? I thought you’re rich now?”

Izumi laughed, another carefree sound, “I should be sulking! You left me at the premier interview. I just went to the rest room and suddenly, everyone’s gone.” Izumi’s voice softens.

She leaned back, easing the weight off Freen but her hands still clung to Freen’s arm. “I heard you’ve got a serious competition now.” She jerked her head at the small matcha booth, Janus and Rawee animatedly talking, “and he even got the mom’s approval.”

Freen sighs but doesn’t say anything. Just… smiles sadly, as if the scene didn’t break her. Janus didn’t have to do anything to be approved. He already fits naturally, with his charming smile and effortless stance.

He just have to be a he.

“What do you say, chee? It’s just lunch. You owe it to me!” Izumi shakes her arms, pouting. “Plus, it’s your birthday today.” Izumi quietly says.

Shocked, her brows furrowed as she tries to remember what day it is today. “It’s not—”

“Oh God, did you honestly think I’d forget? Or did you forget it yourself?”

Sighing, she scratched her brow. “Alright, alright. I owe you lunch. Let’s go. Where do you want to eat?”

Izumi pumped her fists to the air, “Yes!”

“But this is not a date.”

Izumi’s shoulders slumped, “Aww.”

Freen’s lips tugged a little, quick, but quick enough for Izumi to notice.

“Invite Nomura-san and Arata-san, too. I’ll invite Nam as well.”

“Nam-san? One of the producers?”

“Yup, she’s my friend. And oh—do you want to meet Iris?”

“Iris-chan?” Izumi buzzed excitedly, “is she here as well?”

“Yes, actually. She went with me when I migrated here. She owns a restaurant not far from here.”

“Alright, let’s go!”

“Calm down!” Freen chuckles, “Go ask your friends first if they want to come with.”

“One of these days, chee, I’ll get to date you at last.”

Freen’s brows furrowed, “Yeah, no. Not gonna happen. Don’t get your hopes up,” she says, not cold, not warm either. Just truth.

But that didn’t seem to deter Izumi. Instead, she just smiled and turned her back and went towards Shohei and Taichi. Freen also turned her back and called Nam to go with her for lunch.

Little did they know, their interaction didn’t go unnoticed. On the far corner of the corridor, Becky stood there, frozen with jealousy, with wariness—with fear that Freen is slowly slipping through her fingers.

She sees Freen nearing the corner where she stood and yanks her wrist towards her. Opening the door to a dark and empty room, she pushes Freen inside, clicking the lock as it closes.

“What are you doing, Rebecca?” Freen says, her tone both startled and confused.

“Please, let me explain,” Becky says, holding Freen’s hands as she holds back a sob, begging.

“I think you’ve done enough explaining when you shoved me and asked me to leave, Miss Armstrong,” Freen shook off Becky’s hold, her tone made Becky’s blood run cold. “Now, please move. I have a lunch to attend.”

“I didn’t—”

“Move,” Freen exhaled.

“No,” Becky says, her eyes wild as she spreads her hand towards the door, blocking Freen’s way out.

“Move, Rebecca.”

“No! Not until you let me explain!”

“You want to explain? Okay, go on. Do it,” Freen’s voice was brutal, laced with all the pain. She didn’t shout, she didn’t raise an octave of her voice, but for Becky, that was more frightening.

“Explain to me, that despite telling you countless of times to just message me if you get too busy last Thursday, you still chose not go and to make us wait. You have no idea how painful it is to see them—to see how Bumi’s eyes dulled when I told them you won’t be able to come!

“Tell me, Miss Armstrong, that despite countless of times I’ve called you, despite countless of texts I’ve sent, I received nothing, not a single dot,” Freen’s voice never wavered, never raised. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, as if physically holding herself together would make it feel better.

Becky takes a step towards her, hand reaching out to touch Freen, “Love, please. I was there, I went there. But then, Nop told me they asked you to go,” she says, but Freen took a step back, raising her finger, “No, stop. You don’t get to touch me.”

Becky flinched, a sob escaped her. “That day, mom called me, asking me to meet up with her and talk about you, about us,” Becky started, “she said she’d want to meet you and talk to you, too, to give you a chance…”

Becky trailed off, and Freen raised her brows, “But?”

“But only if I agree to let Janus publicly court me, for fan service, for the promotion of our movie and for the future projects we are currently working on. Teerak, please understand—”

“Oh, Miss Armstrong, don’t get me wrong. I understand. I absolutely understand. Despite everything, I know my place. You and Janus made sure of that.”

“Love, please—”

“Did you know, I went there on the premier of your movie despite not getting an invite just so I could surprise you, too?” Freen said, her voice now cracking, unable to mask the pain any longer. “Because despite not having a single fucking explanation from you when you betrayed the kids, when you betrayed me, I was still worried about you. I still wanted to see you.

And God fucking damn it when you walked out of there, looking like something so, so beautiful, my mind and heart stuttered. I couldn’t even describe you because all of the vocabularies I have with the seven languages I speak. You weren’t just beautiful; beautiful is a term too little, too insignificant to describe the way you looked.

But God damn it, Becky! I made a fool out of myself, braving the crowd, I even wore a fucking suit because I thought you’d like it, because I thought I could at least stay beside you without shaming your image!”

“Freen, love, please. I didn’t ask—” Becky’s voice shook with her body, her arms still stretched towards Freen, but still not touching. “I was never ashamed—”

“No, but that’s it. You never even have to ask. You know, I thought… I foolishly thought that I was the one you were talking about back in the interview—that special someone who’s courting you.”

“Teerak, it’s you,” Becky says, her hands now drawn close to her chest, “Please, of course it’s you. You know it’s you—”

“Do I? Then why did you stand there and let him take it away from you?” Freen shouted, her voice was broken and jagged. “Why did you let him take it away from us?! Did you know how gutted I felt?! Did you know how it suffocated me to realize how much courage it took you to say that in front of everyone, only for him to take that away from you?!

God damn it! God fucking damn it, it broke me! It broke me to the point that all I wanted to do was to hurt him—hurt him the way he hurt you!”

Freen’s voice faltered, not from softness but from exhaustion, from surrender. “Before I knew it, I became violent. Becky, I am never violent, and you know that. I—I could never be violent, but I was. Then, I realized, you were laughing at him like nothing happened, like he deserved to be the owner of the sanctuary we built together.

“And as I sat there on the floor, while you were making sure he wasn’t hurt, I broke, all over again, on many new ways I didn’t think I could break. And I thought, maybe, just maybe, I was the only one foolish enough to be angry for you.”

Becky’s knees gave out, her hands still clutched on her chest as her sobs echoed though the empty room, “I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry, please. I love you. I love you, please.”

“I love you too,” Freen says, “God, I love you so much that nothing you do—not this betrayal, not this reckless abandon—nothing you do will ever make a difference on how much I do.”

Freen took a step, and for some silly moment, Becky thought Freen would bend down with her, scoop her and hold her close, reassure her that everything will be okay. But Freen passed her, her hand reaching the knob, “But I don’t think love is enough this time. This is your career, your life, and I won’t stay in the way of your success. I understand you, I truly do. But it didn’t mean it didn’t shatter me, Becky.”

Becky stood up and turned. She hugged Freen’s equally trembling body, she hugged her so tight as if she was losing Freen—because she was losing Freen.

“Please don’t leave me. You promised you won’t leave me,” Becky whispered, her tears soaking through Freen’s shirt.

Freen closed her eyes, let her tears flow with a broken sob and leaned towards the embrace. And just as Becky thought Freen would stay, she feels her hands being pried off her, same hands that gently held her through her worsts and loudly cheered on her during her bests.

“I’m sorry. I need space,” Freen said as she finally opened the door and stepped outside.

Freen clicked the door shut behind her, she finally let her knees collapse, sliding on the wall for support as she hears Becky’s muffled cries inside the room.

“Freen! You promised! You promised me you wouldn’t leave… please… please don’t leave me…”

Chapter Text

There was a boy that was stuck on a maze with his father. They were imprisoned by the king for helping a fugitive escape the kingdom’s labyrinths. Only, the king didn’t know how clever the father was. Little by little, scrap by scrap, the father was able to invent wings that would be their ticket out of the maze.

The father carefully fastened the wing on his son as the celestial bronze hums to life. The boy flexed his shoulders, testing how the wings follow his command on every stretch of his arms. He, in return, fastened his father’s wings when the royal guards saw what they were doing.

In a rush and without any trials, they jumped out of their tower, into freedom, out of the maze. However, the wax that binds the wings of the son has not yet been settled.

“My boy,” the old man shouts through the blast of the gales on their face, “Careful not to soar high for the sun will melt the wax and the wings will fail!”

Too ecstatic with his freedom and with the high of his soar, the boy flew higher, ignoring his father’s heeds. Higher and higher he soared, feeling the rush of the wind that’s brushing his face, the warmth of the sun coursing through its veins.

Then, the first bronze feather fell. And soon, other followed, one after the other until just the brown skeleton sheen of the wings remained…

Freen was pulled out of her trance when a gentle touch grazed her cheek. Becky was still inside the room, but her cries has stopped, replaced by occasional hic of her sobs.

“Chee,” Izumi crouched down, tucking a strand of her hair, wiping her dried tears as she ushered Freen up. “This is not a way to celebrate your day,” she said gently, brushing off the invisible dust on Freen’s jacket.

Freen just smiled, the kind of smile that hurt.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here, hm?”

Izumi gently guided Freen, assisting her by holding the small of her back, as if Izumi is scared Freen would collapse once more.

“No need to tell me what happened. But if you want someone to talk to, I’m always here for you, chee,” she said, still with her gentle hands and even gentler voice.

Then, a voice called her that made her straighten her back in defense.

“Miss Chankimha?” Rawee called, her voice still indifferent, uncaring. “Would you like to join me for lunch? There are things I’d rather want to discuss to you about.”

Freen froze and slowly turned. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Would you be okay if I talk to my friends first?” Freen asked curtly. “I had prior plans with them, but I will of course prioritize whatever you wanted to discuss with me, if you’ll allow me to explain it to them first.”

Rawee gave a very stiff nod, “It’s alright. Kindly meet me at the cafe a block away from here.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will. Thank you,” Freen said and bowed for a wai.

She then turned and told Izumi to follow her. Freen spotted Nam at the parking lot, leaning on her car with Taichi and Shohei, talking animatedly.

“Here’s the birthday girl—why do you look like you just walked out of a nightmare?!” Nam asked alarmed.

“Nam, don’t start,” Freen replied.

“Is it Becky? I swear to God I am the captain of your ship, but I will strangle her if—”

“Nam,” Freen says pointedly, ushering her to the side, out of other’s earshot, “I’m fine. It’s okay. Just, can you take them to Iris’s restaurant? You guys could order anything you want. Just tell her to put it on my tab.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“No,” Freen says, her gaze distant, “Becky’s mom asked me if we could talk. I’m sorry that I’m bailing on you guys, but I wanted to make good with her mom—”

“After everything she did?!” Nam said, anger now rising for her friend.

“Especially then, Nam.” Freen’s voice softened, “She just wanted to make sure I’ll treat her daughter right, as she should. And I’m here to prove myself to her. And I’ll win her affection too, as much as I won Becky’s,” she joked, a futile attempt to lighten Nam’s spirit.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Nam sighed from the helplessness of her friend.

“More than she’ll ever know,” Freen smiled once more—a guarded smile.

Nam tapped her back and sighed. “Alright, prepare your card, then. We won’t be holding back since you bailed on us.”

Freen chuckled, “I wouldn’t have it the other way.”

Freen walked the familiar path towards the café where she would meet Rawee. She readies herself, her resolve strengthening because despite needing space from Becky, she knows once everything settled, she would still be the place Freen would go home to.

She spotted Rawee sitting on the corner table, already sipping her tea while looking out of the window.

Freen bowed once more, “I apologize, ma’am, for taking so long.”

Rawee offered a smile close to grimace. “It’s alright. I see you walked from here? You didn’t bring your car?”

“Oh, I just thought—”

“Hmm,” Rawee interrupted, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Let me get straight to the point—I don’t like you for Becky.”

Freen let out a sad smile, “I know that ma’am.”

Stunned by the immediate acceptance, “Then, why did you still agree to talk to me?”

“Because I love her, Mrs. Armstrong. I love your daughter, and I don’t want her to choose whom she gets to keep between us.”

“Do you honestly think she will choose you?” Rawee says, clearly flabbergasted by the audacity of the woman in front of her.

“I do,” Freen says without blinking, without hesitation, “But I really hope we won’t be able to know for sure. For your sake.”

“You’re confident,” Rawee says, sipping her tea as she lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “cocky for someone who could barely afford to dress herself nicely.”

Freen raises her brows, anticipating the jab with the way she dresses, “I do apologize if my taste in clothes are not suitable for you. I will try my best to clean up more.”

Rawee lets out another chuckle, her voice matching the higher, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her? To her image? What will people say if they knew that she’s a—she’s a dyke?”

                        “

They say loving you is a sin

For they haven’t knelt at the altar of your skin

For they haven’t felt your touch that transcends heaven

All they know is that longing I have for your heart is forbidden

”          

Freen smiled once more, “Do you think it will matter whom she loves, Mrs. Armstrong?”

“Yes! I imagine brands backing out from their sponsorship, how she will be treated as a joke on the industry,” Rawee’s voice now has a pitch that could shatter a glass, “How she will have to limit everything she’s doing just because—just because you’ve corrupted her to be one of you!”

Freen blinked, she tilted her head as if to register what Rawee just said, “Corrupted?”

“Yes!” Rawee exclaimed, her voice almost pierced Freen’s ears, “She was normal before she met you—she had Janus! He was so perfect for her, his world perfectly fits Becky’s! And now, you barge into her life, and you just had to—you just had to turn her like you!”

Freen blinked, not believing a word this lady is saying, “Turn her like me? What am I? Some kind of zombie? Mrs. Armstrong, did you know what Janus did to her? It shouldn’t matter to you who she—”

“Of course it matters to me!” she lets out another high-pitched giggle, as if she cannot believe the audacity of this thing in front of her, “Do you have any idea how hard Becky, and I worked on just so she could be like this? I will not let her destroy it for a phase—for you, for someone who can’t even give her a proper future and family!”

Freen’s brows furrowed, then, unexpectedly, she lets out a chuckle, not letting any cracks show.

“Mrs. Armstrong, can I ask you a question?”

Rawee was silent, Freen’s calmness irked her the wrong way as she continues to sip her tea.

                                     “

They say loving you is a sin

For they never saw your glow when the darkness creeps in

Never knowing the sweet taste of your warm lips

Between the murmurs and giggles of your kiss

”                      

Freen took her silence as a sign to proceed, “Have you ever felt so safe with someone that just their presence takes you into the deepest slumbers even in the depths hell? Have you ever felt the need to protect someone that you’re willing to do everything to keep them safe from any harm? That you are willing to sacrifice everything you have and everything you are for them to be happy?”

Rawee went silent, her gaze softened as if remembering a hazy memory from a distant past. But Freen was not done, she had to express everything, to lay all her cards in front of the woman that birthed the girl that made her describe love like this.

“Love—love is not the same shit that your bible describes. It’s not patient, it’s not kind.” Freen continued, her voice gentler but still strong, “It claws on your mind, it consumes your soul, as if every waking second you have is designed to only think of the person in your heart. They hold so much power in you that they could make or break you, can make you undone limb by limb but also repair the very fiber of your being.”

Then, Rawee shook the memory, slipping back to her cold, guarded exterior. “And what? You deluded yourself enough to call—whatever it is that the two of you have—what—love?” she let out another one of her chuckles, “You are nothing but a phase, a curiosity she had to find the answers to. And soon, she will grow out of it—out of you. Because these kinds of love? They never last.”

                         “

And if what they say is true,

Then I’ll gladly face my damnation for you.

For my salvation lies on the warmth of your touch

Gladly traversing hell just so I could do more of such

”          

Freen tried, she tried so hard not to let these words rattle her to her core. But deep inside, she’s scared that what Rawee said was true. She’d had her share of it—Izumi. Although what she felt towards Izumi back then is nothing compared to how she felt towards Becky now, it still hurt, still runs deep.

And god, she cannot stop picturing the way Becky laughed at something Janus had said, the way her head tilted a little, the fringes of her perfectly messy bun swaying along; the way her eyes looked when she pushed her off him—shocked, scared, disappointed—no matter how much she tries to tell herself that Becky was just taken aback by her sudden violence… god it still hurt.

With a shaky exhale, her resolve still stands. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it will never last,” Freen looked up towards Rawee, tears brimming, “But I will hold on to her as long as she still permits me to do so, as long as she still needs me to do so—I will still fight for her even if—”

“Did you know that she canceled the photoshoot and a deal from L’Oréal last Thursday just so she could go with you?”

Freen blinked, finally letting her tears fall, “What? She didn’t tell me—”

“Of course she won’t! Because she wants to spend time with you more than anything!” Rawee seethes, blaming Freen with the fallout, “You think she will tell you what she had to sacrifice for you, too? She was going to be one of their ambassadors and she cancelled it just to be with you!”

Freen’s heart fell out of her chest. Why? Why did Becky not tell her about this? About such a huge deal? God, she could have just told Freen about it! The Narra was not that important! This was her career, her dream! And she just gave it up like that…

Freen swallowed another lump on her throat. It seemed like it was the only thing that she could swallow today without puking and tearing her stomach apart.

“Becky needs someone who would support her—a real man capable enough to provide for her, and no matter how hard you try, you will never be as good as one. You are a distraction! She has no future with you, especially when you’re the reason why her future is starting to crumble.”

And with that, Freen set her gaze on the floor but her stare distant as her tears continuously pour with everything that was happening, with every revelation she was hearing.

Then, Rawee took out a check book, scribbles on it and tore it, setting it to the table towards Freen.

“Name your price.”

Freen looked up once more, blinking in disbelief. “What? Do you think I’m that low? Like I’m a bug? A peasant that you could buy just like that and magically pay me out of existence?” she wiped her cheeks, not quite believing what was happening.

Rawee then takes the check back, scribbles some more then slides it back, ignoring Freen. “It’s a million. Just break up with her. She won’t leave you, we both know that. But she is destroying her career to cater you, and if you cared enough about her like you claim, take the check and go.” Rawee stood up leaving the quiet devastation she brought, “Plus, you look like you need it.” then, she raked Freen’s outfit once more before taking steps towards the exit.

But before she opened the door, Rawee hears Freen, “You were never gonna give me a chance, weren’t you? You told Becky that if she agrees to your demands, you’ll give me a chance. But there was never a chance, wasn’t there?”

Rawee took a final glance before responding.

“No.”

Her voice was quiet, but the single word plunged into the depths of Freen’s soul. She took the final step and opened the door, hoping that the pest she left would take her offer and just leave.

Freen didn’t even remember how she walked back to the taping venue. She doesn’t remember how she found Alex and asked for the rest of the day off, how fake her smile was to reason her birthday out.

She unlocks her car, only to see a few notes stuck on her windshield once more.

Written in red ink, she sighs deeply and reads one of the notes before tossing it all out, “Better leave her. You are no good for her and you know that. Janus has her now so just disappear before I make you.”

Freen scoffed, ‘Great, what a fucking birthday card. Seriously? When will people get a life?’ she thinks as she climbs to her car and drive off somewhere to continue her session yesterday.

Freen found herself at a bar late that afternoon, nestled somewhere she doesn’t know. She just wanted to escape everything, to numb everything that’s been going on. She looks back to everything that has happened, how she left Becky back in that room, clutching her heart and god, Freen almost swooped down and scoop her, almost kissed her tears away.

Almost.

That won’t change the fact that she broke Freen once more. That won’t change the fact that she laughed at something Janus said and proceeds to shove her like some ragged doll she’s done playing with. No, Freen doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.

She empties the expensive scotch with a swig, letting the amber liquid quote her mouth and burn her throat. She takes out another pack as she flags down the bartender to refill her glass, “Do you have a Macallan 30?” she asks, her voice now husky and low with the burn of her fifth.

The barkeep whistles, then nods, “Top shelf, finally getting some good stuff!” Then, the burly man happily reached down and just before he poured, “Neat?”

Freen nods and the man proceeds to pour the rich amber liquid.

The bar is now pulsating with the crowd getting thicker as the day blurs into the night and deepens. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw three figures walk into the bar and immediately locks eyes on the girl in between.

Shohei, Izumi and Taichi spots her and took steps towards the expert. Freen sighs in contempt, returning to the newly refilled glass she was nursing. Look, it’s not that she didn’t want to hang out with them, it’s just that she wanted to be alone for a while, with her thoughts and expensive ambers and nicotine.

“Freen-san, this is no way to celebrate your birthday!” Taichi said, tapping one of her shoulders.

“Yes, Tai-chan is right. Come on, let us accompany you for a while,” Shohei leaning in to shout over the music.

Freen directs her face away from the three as she puffs a drag of the menthol and discards it on the near-full ashtray beside her, “I’m fine here, thanks.”

Then, a gentle hand touched her arm. Izumi’s gaze was sad with a mix of something Freen couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name. “Come on, chee,” she says, though her voice was quiet, Freen can quite hear it over the loud pulse of the bar.

They ushered her at the corner of the bar. Since they are not really that known here in Thailand yet, they didn’t bother with disguises and VIP booths.

“So, Freen-san, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I think Izumi here has a huge crush on you,” Shohei says as he wiggles his eyebrows behind his specs.

Freen raised her brow and tilts her head towards Izumi, then scoffs a laugh, “Izumi’s straight, Shohei-san. We’re just old childhood friends.”

Then, both guys burst out laughing, as if Freen just said something so ridiculous, “Freen-san, Izumi is anything but straight—”

“Shut it!” Izumi looks at both of them, her gaze sharp and her lips pressed into a line, though the red tinge on her ears betrayed her tone.

And it didn’t escape Freen. She might have been a little tipsy, but she still has her senses with her. “Izumi?” Freen says, still tilting her head.

“Oh, Freen-san, you didn’t know?” Taichi says, wiping his eyes with the laughter-induced tear. “Izumi came out to the industry years ago! She’s not straight, she’s bi!”

Freen then smiled, slightly proud of Izumi’s bravery, ignoring the earlier remarks from the two guys. Coming out when she’s in the industry, especially on a country that’s not that as open-minded with gender and sexuality, “I’m proud of you for having the courage to come out, Izumi,” Freen said, her chest puffing with genuine pride at what her old friend did.

“Thanks,” Izumi says, her voice was barely audible and Freen would’ve noticed how scarlet Izumi was if she’d been looking at her. But Freen immediately turned her attention to the glass she’s been nursing. She swirled her drink, deep amber whirling around the glass as conversations between the three shifted in Nihongo.

“黙ってろって言っただろ！” Izumi hissed.

(I told you guys to shut up about it!)

“諦めた方がいいよ、ズズちゃん。興味なさそうだし,” Taichi says, patting Izumi’s back.

(Better give up now, Zuzu-chan. She doesn’t seem interested.)

“Yeah, I think you better shift to Becky-san, though. She looks so damn hot! Should we also court her like that guy from today did?” Shohei says, still in Nihongo, unaware that the expert can fully understand what they were talking about.

“Oh, for sure! Goddamn, have you seen those legs? So fucking flawless. I could spend the entire day just worshiping it with my tongue,” Taichi says.

And Freen?

Freen’s ears ringed.

Freen stops swirling her drink and calmly put her glass down. She seethes, her voice now dangerously low, but still calm, “今何って言った？”

(What did you just say?)

Taichi and Shohei stopped, Izumi’s jaw dropped. “I said, what the fuck did you just say?” Freen says in perfect Nihongo, grabbing Taichi’s collar over the table.

Startled, Taichi raised both his hands in surrender, “Woah, woah! Freen-san! We didn’t know you could understand—”

“黙って！” (Shut up!) Freen lets go of Taichi’s collar and stands, “使えねえやつ,” (What a useless guy.) her voice now lower but seething with anger as she took strides at the other corner of the booth in front of the guy, “You’re sorry because I understood?” she pulled Taichi’s collar closer, their faces now inches from each other, “Listen to me and listen well. If you talk about her like that again, ever, I swear to all your gods, you’ll be on the floor with your pretty little nose broken,” she easily switches back to English, then, she takes the remaining amber on her glass, leaves the table and heads towards the counter to settle her tab.

Seeing how Freen sways a little with the way she walks, Izumi tries to assist her by grabbing one of her arms. “I didn’t know you can speak and understand Nihongo now, chee,” Izumi says quietly as they reach the counter.

Freen scoffed, “I didn’t think you had to know.”

Izumi just sadly smiled, “I apologize for the rudeness and perverse attitude of Shohei and Taichi. It was a really bad thing to say—”

As Freen takes her card from the barkeep and settling her bill, Freen interrupts, “お願いだからほっといて。一人にして、お願いよ,” Freen whispers, stuttering on the foreign language.

(Please leave me alone. Please let me be alone.)

Izumi smiled, her gaze shifted to Freen’s unfocused eyes, “ここにいるから、もう一人じゃないよ、チーちゃん。”

(I am here now so you won’t ever be alone anymore, chee.)

Izumi gently ushered her to the parking lot, stopping near her car as she holds out her hand. Freen raised her brows, “What?”

“Keys,” Izumi demands.

“What?”

“Keys. I can’t let you drive while you’re drunk.”

“What—no. You’re not driving TARDIS. I can go home by myself. You go back to your friends and hang out. I’m good.”

“Chee, you can barely stand, let alone drive drunk. I can’t let anything happen to you. I told them that I’ll go home, anyway. Plus, we basically live on the same apartment complex, and I haven’t been drinking that much. Come on.”

Freen lets out a heavy sigh but surrenders the keys, nonetheless. ‘Such persistence. I guess I need to go back there tonight,’ Freen thinks. She wanted to go back to her penthouse tonight, but Izumi was right, she couldn’t drive. She internally scoffed while climbing at the passenger seat.

Izumi easily slides herself to the driver’s seat and clicks her seatbelt when she saw Freen’s was already fastened.

At the first few minutes of the ride, both of them were silent. Then, Izumi broke it by pressing play. The previous song vibrated through the car and thankfully, it was not one of the unhinged ones.

I’ve saved every letter you wrote me

From the moment I read them,

I knew you were mine

You said you were mine

I thought you were mine

Freen absorbs the lyrics once more. It’s Hamilton and thank God for Philippa Soo’s angelic but hurtful voice that she could tell Izumi it’s the reason why she’s teary if she’d ask. Then, she couldn’t help it and shouted the lyrics, which startled the poor driver.

“YOU PUBLISHED THE LETTERS SHE WROTE YOU! YOU TOLD THE WHOLE WORLD HOW YOU GOT THIS GIRL INTO OUR BED! IN CLEARING YOUR NAME, YOU HAVE RUINED OUR LIVES!

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT ANGELICA SAID WHEN SHE’D READ WHAT YOU’VE DONE? SHE SAID, ‘YOU’VE MARRIED AN ICARUS, HE AS FLOWN TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN.’”

And then, Freen’s voice broke, and Izumi knows that her voice wasn’t the only thing that had broken as the expert loudly wept at the passenger’s seat.

And Izumi?

Izumi just listened and quietly broke for Freen, for all the reasons her chee broke like this, like something she can never truly repair no matter how she loves the person weeping beside her.

Then, in between her sobs, Freen spoke.

“Icarus was such an idiot, Izumi. N-No matter how D-Daedalus warned him not to fly too high, not to soar too great, he didn’t l-listen.” Freen’s breathing was ragged, but Izumi can tell how hard she’s trying to control it.

Then, when she was finally able to control it, she spoke again, her voice now hoarse. “He flew too close to the sun and the wax of his wings melted, burning his skin as the feathers slowly undo their bindings. He realized how high he was—his dream of touching the sun, of at least reaching it was close, so fucking close he could feel it on his fingertips, Izumi.

“It was at his fingertips, and could you blame him for reaching out? Just as he was about to reach his Apollo, his wings failed, the air that brought him up so close to his dream was the same gust that brought him down and reminding him of his place. でも、いずみさん、聞いて。ねえ、聞いて。”

(But, Izumi-san, listen. Hey, listen.)

Izumi hummed, “聞いてるよ、チーちゃん。”

(I’m listening, chee.)

“Icarus laughed.” Freen chuckled between her sobs, “As he fell to his death, he laughed. Do you know why?”

Izumi spared a glance, and the sight broke her once more. Freen’s eyes were bloodshot, her usual messy bun was even messier as tear paths stained her reddening cheeks. She resisted the urge to reach over and wipe her tears because she knows, deep down, the one that broke Freen was the only one that could bring her back.

And Izumi knows it was not her.

Turning her gaze back to the road, she cleared her throat and asked, “Why?”

“Because at least, before she died, she gets to be close with her sun…” Freen says, her voice breaking all over again as tears spill once more. Izumi notes the change of pronouns in Freen’s story and immediately gets that it was never about Icarus at the first place.

“I get to be close with my sun even if I crashed and burned, even if it’s just for a short while. It’s more than I could ask, it’s more than I deserve for a sinner like me. I get to be with my sun even if it was just my fingertips that reached her.” Freen clutched her chest with both her hands, holding them close and didn’t bother wiping the tears and the snot that was flowing out of her as she sobs.

“I love her so much, Izumi. I love her so much that I’d gladly burn and smolder in the depths of hell just so I could be with her. I could take everything, I’d take a kick on the shin just so she’d be safe. But I know it’s not enough, that I’ll never be enough. So, I’ll step aside just so she could soar higher, even if it means I’ll never reach her again.”

After that, only the faint sound of music hummed together with Freen’s occasional sobs until it quieted down to soft snores. They reached their building after a few minutes. Izumi unbuckles and slips out of her seat, jogging around the car to gently wake Freen.

“Chee, what’s your room number?” Izumi nudged the expert, waking her as she assists her to the elevator.

“1205,” Freen mumbles incoherently while pointing at the car keys on Izumi’s hand. The keys of her apartment were chained with the key of her car.

Izumi proceeds to punch her floor number. Just as the elevator dings open, she feels a warm, rancid-smelling thing on her shoulders down to her chest. Freen, her gorgeous, wonderful chee, just puked on her, soaking the entire front of her shirt.

But she didn’t fuss. She didn’t whine.

She fishes out her handkerchief and tries to shake some off, carefully assisting Freen towards the living room, as she hears Freen mumbles apologies incoherently.

Izumi still clutching Freen’s hand over her shoulder, “It’s okay, chee. I’ll wash up back at my room,” Izumi says. She gently lay Freen on the couch, removed her sneakers and socks, and placed her feet on the soft mattress.

“Thank you, Izumi,” Freen says, her eyes closed, “Please, take a shower here. I insist. It’s the least I could do.” After a while, Freen tries to get up and heads to the kitchen to drink some water while Izumi cleans up a little. Since Freen had puked some of what she drunk tonight, she was feeling a little better.

“I really do apologize about the mess. Please, go take a shower. I insist, really. I’ll prepare some change of clothes. You didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate you so much.”

Izumi nods and heads to the direction of the guest bathroom Freen pointed to freshen up as Freen prepares clothes for her to change into.

Freen knocks at the door, “Izumi, I placed the clothes inside the guest room, the one on the left. Please feel free to change there. I’ll freshen up as well.”

She hears acknowledgement from Izumi before Freen proceeds to take a long shower, still thinking, still hurting, but at least she has a headache and a hangover to distract her about everything tomorrow. She lets the cold water run through her skin, washing away the stink of the day as Rawee’s words still echoes on her mind.

She didn’t mind the insults, to be honest. She didn’t mind that Rawee looked at her like a bug or a pest because of the way she dressed because she knows she was more than that.

What broke her was the fact that some of the words Rawee said were true. That no matter what she does, she’ll just drag Becky down. And the fact that Becky had to cancel a meeting and a shoot for her, when she specifically asked the actress not to do those things. She knew how long Becky waited to be offered that role but the fact that she canceled and hid it from Freen—it didn’t sit well with Freen even though Becky was doing it for her and the kids at the first place.

She was shaken out of her reverie when the doorbell rang. She frowned and immediately dried herself and slipped on some cotton shirt and shorts. She checked her phone, ignoring the missed calls and texts from the person she was thinking about.

It was quarter to midnight, who would visit her at this time of night? She went out of her room, Izumi already halfway down the hallway, her hair bundled tightly with a towel.

“Izumi-san, can you get the door for me?” Freen asked as she struggled to put one of her fuzzy indoor slippers.

Freen’s hair was still dripping, drying it with the towel as she walked towards the door as well. Izumi reached the door first and propped it open with Freen behind her.

Then, suddenly, Freen was rooted on the spot, unable to move an inch of a muscle.

It was Becky, without masks or shades or hoods. Her face was bare, eyes swollen, as if she cried all day. But she stood there, she still tried her hardest to smile that gorgeously dimpled smile.

Her gaze was down as she was holding a small version of Hagrid’s cake, with pink frosting and jagged letterings, one long candle propped at the side as she struggles to light it up with a lighter.

“I know you said you wanted some space, and I will give it to you,” Becky started, her gaze was still on the cake as silent tears begun flowing down her cheeks. “Just please, please let me do this for you and I promise I’ll leave,” her voice cracked as a sob escaped. Then, as soon as the candle was finally lit, she smiled through the tears.

“Happy birthday, teerak—”

Her voice failed as she lifted her gaze towards the open door, taking in the two freshly showered girls in front of her…

Chapter Text

Becky found herself tracing the familiar path towards her childhood home. Despite not returning to it since her father died, the same feeling of belongingness weirdly pulled her heart to open the double oak doors.

It was a modern house with light walls and floor-to-ceiling windows adorned with elegant curtains and freshly brewed jasmine tea, her dad’s favorite. As her footsteps echoes through the marbled halls of the mansion, she was startled to find her dad sipping his morning tea, his brows furrowing beneath his glasses that almost slid down his nose as he did the morning’s crossword puzzle.

Then, out of the corner of the grand staircase, a small girl adorned with pink wooly hat with matching a pink floral dress came running down to her father. As fast as her little feet could run, her father’s princess came zooming in and Robin gladly put his pencil down and kneeled to welcome her embrace.

“Good morning, daddy!” Little Becky cheered as she reached her dad’s warm embrace.

Chuckling with the early morning enthusiasm of his princess, Robin hugged his little girl and lifted her up in his arms.

“Good morning, my princess,” Robin says, little Becky still cradled in his arms while they walk towards the living room, “I have a gift for you.” Then, he scooted down, carefully set his princess down and grabbed a beautiful pink umbrella.

Little Becky excitedly fiddled with it and opened it in the middle of the living room. To her surprise, pictures of care bears were printed on the canopy with a pink care bear whistle dangling from its handle.

“Wow, daddy, look! It’s the pink care bear,” his princess says, eyes shining with admiration, clearly enthused with the small gift he gave.

“Listen carefully, princess,” Robin says, softly caressing his daughter’s hair, “wherever you are, whenever it is, if you get lost, just blow on this whistle and I’ll come and rescue you, okay?”

Little Becky nods eagerly, “Yes daddy!” she said and giggles as Robin rose, patting her head and starts to head back towards the kitchen.

Then, little Becky blew the whistle, causing Robin to turn back and tilt his head.

“Daddy, you forgot to carry your princess,” she said, pouting while lifting her arms towards her father, still clutching the pink care bear umbrella on her little hands.

Becky woke up with a start, her eyes still misty with the dream she had. She closed her eyes back, trying to chase her dream, back to the warmth of her childhood, back to the warmth of her dad’s embrace.

But alas, sleep eluded her once more. But no matter! For today? Today was Thursday, so, that means, it’s Narra day! That means she gets to go back with the kids, and Freen, and all the new stories and weird mathematical anecdotes that her girlfriend comes up with just to make her lessons more interesting.

She got up with a smile, preparing for her morning workout as she fires up the espresso machine and rolls out her yoga mat. She carefully scooped and weighed the fresh coffee beans and set it on the coffee grinder then went to start her workout.

After the second set, she goes to the kitchen, the aroma of coffee now filled the air as she prepares the grinded beans on the portafilter, ready just with the press of the button. she calls Freen, since she’s been missing the expert extra today, especially since the dream she had still clung to her, needing the same warmth that only Freen can make her feel.

After the third ring, the expert answers, her husky and groggy voice filled her ears as her earbuds connect the call. “Good morning, my love,” Freen says.

“Good morning, teerak,” Becky replied panting, already jogging on her treadmill. “Please wake up. I miss you already,” she said, pouting.

After a few seconds, she hears a very, very sleepy voice, “Yes, my Queen, I’m awake. I’m awake.” Becky rolled her eyes at her obviously not awake girlfriend. She swears she could see Freen rubbing both her palms against her face just to stay awake.

Then, she hears another call coming through.

“Wait, baby, mom is calling me,” Becky says. “I’ll call you back,” she lightly presses left of her Marshall buds, ending the call with Freen then proceeds to hop off the treadmill and answers the call from her mom.

“Mom?” Becky asks while whisking her matcha and pouring it on the latte.

“Meet me at the café you first took me months ago in an hour,” Rawee commanded, without any room for arguments.

“But I have plans tod—”

And just like that, the line was dead.

She was having such a good morning.

With that, she cut her workout time short. Grabbing her towel, she starts to prepare for the day. Wearing just a simple crisp shirt and one of Freen’s Dodgers hoodie, she puts on one of her jagger pants and heads out, cradling her morning fix.

She was on her way to her car when she attempted to fire a text to Freen, updating her on her whereabouts and saying that she needed to meet her mom first before heading towards the Narra. But to her absolute dismay, she finds her phone dead.

Sliding on the driver’s seat, she sets down her latte and rummage through her bag for her power bank and plugs her phone, only for it to be drained as well.

Well fuck.

“See, this is what I’ve been talking about, Becbec. I told you to always make sure that your phone has sufficient battery before you go out and to always charge your power bank right after use,” she could almost hear Freen’s lecturing voice.

She sighs, sips a drink of her matcha and starts the engine, heading towards the café her mom told her. She’ll just ask her mom to update Blaine regarding her whereabouts and her phone situation. Blaine should know to update Freen about it as well.

After half an hour of Rent, another musical recommendation from the expert, she pulls up towards the café, immediately seeing the small but stout figure of her mom at the window corner of the place.

She slides on the seat across her mom, putting her bag on the empty seat beside her.

“Mom, can you update Blaine that we’re together? My phone died and my battery pack as well.”

Her mom nods slightly, her mouth pressed thin as she swallows the tea she just sipped. Rawee fishes out her phone and fires a quick message on her daughter’s secretary.

“So, what’s this about, mom?” Becky says, her voice lacks the usual warmth it carried. She still hasn’t forgiven her mom after storming into her room and saying those horrible things towards Freen.

Somehow, Rawee noticed, but of course, she didn’t let it deter her from the confrontation.

“One of my contacts from L’Oréal says you declined a shoot today. I checked with your secretary, and she said you didn’t have anything for your work itinerary,” Rawee said, emphasizing on work. “Care to explain why?”

“Well, with the way you enunciated ‘work’, I assumed you already know why—”

“I told you to break up with that girl, Rebecca,” Rawee says, her voice sharp and gaze calculating.

“And I am not a kid anymore to obey your commands. That girl you’re talking about? She’s the person who brought me peace since dad died. And if only Freen didn’t want me to completely sever our relationship, I would’ve done it already, mom,” Becky made sure to emphasize the last word which made Rawee’s eyes narrow.

“I still haven’t forgiven you with the words you said about her. I still haven’t forgiven you for barging in just like that—”

“I didn’t ask for your forgiveness, Rebecca. I’m only doing this for you. You have had too much freedom these past few years. Now, enough!” Rawee says with finality. Then, she released a heavy sigh, as if to control the tantrums of the little kid sitting across. “Thankfully, I was able to talk to the photoshoot director, and they still wanted you for the shot.”

“And I told them I don’t want it. I have somewhere to go today, and I can’t postpone it.” Gathering her things, she stands up, “You know what, mom, I’m done here.”

As she turns and takes a step towards the door, “They will extend an invitation for you on the upcoming Cannes. Are you sure you’re gonna pass up this chance just to be with—with that girl?”

Becky stills. The words of her mother slowly registering on her brain.

Cannes.

Countless connections. Countless possibilities. And most importantly, a chance she knows she cannot pass up. Worse, Rawee knows it.

Becky turns around stiffly, and her mother smirks. She knows her daughter. She knows it’s one of her dreams to attend one of the sought-after events of the business.

“Okay. But I can’t stay the whole day. We’ll have to rush through it. But lend me your phone and let me talk to Freen first—”

“I already told Blaine about this.” Rawee dismissed almost too fast with a wave of her hand. “I’m sure she will update your plaything about this—”

“Freen is not my plaything. Don’t you dare treat her as one. She is my girlfriend, and I am committed to her in any way possible,” Becky seethes, her ears ringing on the words that this- this vile creature said. “If you don’t respect her as a person, at least respect her as someone more important to me than you are.” She can’t believe it was the same woman that exuded warmth through the cold walls of their childhood mansion, and once the hearth of the family.

“We’ll see about that,” Rawee whispers through her smirk.

“Did you have something else to say?” Becky says, not quite hearing her mother’s words.

“Nothing. Let’s just go.”

The drive towards the location was filled with Becky’s thoughts about today’s Narra session. She checked the time—10:30AM. She needs to get this over with as soon as possible and tell Freen about it.

‘God, I promise, baby. From here on, I will make sure to charge hours before I leave my fucking apartment. I swear to God if I could just go somewhere and buy a new phone,’ Becky says, mentally communicating to Freen and palming her face with her free hand, glancing from time to time at her dead phone as if she could will it back to life.

She is most certain that Freen will understand this but the unease of not being able to communicate and tell the expert about this is killing her. She didn’t want the kids to wait for her. Hell, she didn’t even want to make them wait at all! It breaks her heart to imagine just how devastated the kids would be if she didn’t make it on time. She’s been looking forward to it the whole week.

After half an hour, they arrive at the location and Becky basically sprints towards the makeup crew. Since Rawee insisted that Blaine wasn’t needed for this, she had no choice but to ask her mom to charge her phone and keep an eye on it.

Thankfully, Freen bought her a spare charger, “Do not let this leave your bag, at all cost.” Becky smiles as she hears the echoes of the expert’s warnings about her tendencies to leave her phone uncharged.

She was about to instruct her mom when a guy blocked her way inside.

Janus.

Holding another bouquet of red roses, he wore his dazzling charm and his dimpled smile, to which Becky scoffed internally.

‘He thinks he’s all charming and handsome when my Freen is even more charming and handsome than he is without even trying.’

“What are you doing here, Janus? Get out of the way. I’m late,” Becky says, side-stepping him and continues her way inside.

“Don’t be rude, Rebecca,” Rawee spat, placing her hand on the shoulders of the dejected guy. “I told Janus that you’d be here, and he so kindly offered his support by being here. Don’t you think it’s a good promotion for your movie tomorrow if you were to be seen together?”

Becky didn’t have the energy to argue and just heaved a sigh, sitting down on her chair, letting her glam team to do the work.

She tries to breeze through the shoot, but the concept was particularly tricky. Especially with Janus constantly trying to dab her sweat and tuck her hair behind her ear like a devoted partner.

“What the fuck are you doing here, really?” Becky whispers while Janus still dabs her forehead dry. She tries her hardest to smile through the cringey moves that the guy was doing, wary of the people around.

“Becs, I know you hate me—”

“Well, no shit man. What a very, very intelligent observation!”

Janus smiled sadly, his gaze lowered, “Look, I know I messed up and I don’t have a good reason for it. What I did to you, or at least, tried to do, was—”

“Stupid? Misogynistic? Stupid? Sexist? Stupid once more?” Becky cuts him off.

Janus nodded. “Yes, all of those. But Becks, please, let me—”

“Let you what? Let you be close to me again?” Becky tries her hardest to hide her contempt towards the guy. “What are you gonna do about it? Janus, I swear to God if you do something stupid—”

“Look, I just really want to apologize and have my friend back. Even though I’ve tried so many times to cross that line, and failed epically, I’d still want to be your friend. You and I work together, Becks. Please?”

She nods, “I understand. I’ll try. But it doesn't happen overnight, Janus. What you did was really fucked up, even on your standards.”

“I know. It’s all I could ask. Thanks, Becks.”

The rest of the shoot came with a haze. It was already 2:30PM when they finished. She asked Janus if she could just take care of her mother as she rushes through the Narra session, hopeful that she wasn’t too late since the session could extend until 4:30PM.

She hurriedly pulls up on the parking lot near the Rangsit University’s Cyber campus and jogs towards the Narra shade. She finds the kids huddled towards the center, the older children taking over the lessons for the younger ones as usual.

But the lack of the expert was evident, the usual cheerful atmosphere was gone. She quietly huffed as she reached near the tree, making the kids look up to the sudden visitor.

When the kids saw her, their faces immediately brightened up. The youngest ones stood and ran towards her, arms outstretched, “P’Becky!”

Becky crouched down to meet them in a hurricane of hugs as all eight kids swarm her, leaving the four elders smiling sadly at the site.

“P’Freen told us you wouldn’t go!” Bumi says, smiling with his tongue in between the space on his missing tooth.

“Of course not!” Becky says her heart was warming through the gesture as she pats Bumi’s head. “Why would I miss this when you guys are the best?”

Non approached them once the kids loosened their grip.

“P’Bec, we asked P’Freen to go take her rest early today since she looked like she wasn’t feeling that good,” Non says, sadness evident on his eyes.

Then, Kade approached them, “She said she wasn’t able to get through you and that your phone was turned off. She can’t contact you and was very worried about you.”

‘Shit. Now I really did it,’ Becky thought, ‘She won’t let me hear the end of it now’. Turning back her focus to the two, she explained, “My phone died, and I had a sudden commitment that I wasn’t able refuse. I couldn’t inform her about it, but I specifically asked my assistant to contact her. She didn’t get the message?”

“Apparently not, P’Bec. She was really distressed. She initially wanted to wait for you before we started but since it was getting late into the noon, we just decided to take over the lecture and ask her to go home and rest.”

Reaching for her phone, Becky excused herself to attempt to call Freen and tell her that she’s on the session now. But to her utter dismay, the useless phone is still dead.

‘What the fuck? I swear I asked mom to charge this. Did I forget to…?’

With all the whirlwind of the morning and the chaos of the photoshoot and Janus, did she actually forget to ask her mom to do it? For the first time, she’s actually scared of her little Hufflepuff cinnamon roll and all the lecture she’ll give. Shaking her head, she turns back to the kids and tries to bid them farewell.

‘I swear, Sarocha, I’ll buy all kinds of car charger! Please don’t kill me!’ Becky could only think.

“I’m sorry kids, I have to go. I need to find our P’Freen. She might be worried about where I’ve gone,” her voice melted into whisper so only Non and Kade can hear, “and I don’t want to be killed by her for not contacting her the whole day.”

“B-but you can’t go. No stories for us, P’Bec?” Bumi pouts, tears threatening to spill on his innocent eyes. “I behaved really good and even took a bath today.”

With that, Becky was hostaged by 10–15-year-olds and spoiled them with dramatic storytelling of their books. She couldn’t say she was forced to do it, hell, she enjoyed it just as much. The cheers and the gasps of the kids were balm enough for the day she’s been through today.

The sun was already setting when she finally put her foot down and asked the kids to finally rest. She sprinted back to her car and navigated the familiar route to Freen’s apartment. Upon pulling up onto the curbside of the building, she spotted Freen leaving a nearby convenience store.

She immediately slid out of the car and ran towards her girlfriend when out of nowhere, Izumi’s call rang throughout the almost empty street.

She slowed her walking, observing the interaction between the two. It irks her how Izumi is so comfortable clinging to her Freen like that. But then again, they’re childhood friends.

It seemed like they have yet to spot the actress when she heard the next thing Izumi said.

“If you’re courting Rebecca-san, then, as long as you guys aren’t together yet, I’ll court you, instead!”

The cheerfulness of Izumi’s voice, the hope behind it, that one day, Freen would be hers—it made Becky’s ears ring. She should go to them, interfere—even kiss Freen in front of Izumi just to stake her claim that the expert is completely, irrevocably hers.

But her blood ran cold, not hearing Freen’s response, or anything else for the matter. She turned around and ran back towards her car, too stunned to do anything but to stare at the two. The fact that Izumi just suddenly drop that bombshell and Freen acting like it wasn’t something new between them tells Becky one thing—they are definitely more than friends.

That means Freen lied.

Lied while smiling at her, while telling Becky that she is just hers.

Becky knows she shouldn’t question everything just because of a simple white lie, without even confronting the expert but she couldn’t help it. She’s jealous and confused and she didn’t know what to do with it.

She didn’t know how she got back to her apartment. She was replaying every interaction that Freen had with Izumi. How Izumi assumed she was the one Freen called ‘baby’ back then, how she easily hugged her and nuzzled her neck and inhaled her scent.

How Freen seemed to tense a little when she told her that they were nothing more than friends. She might have let Freen go that time, but it bugged her. Now, hearing Izumi nonchalantly drop that she will court Freen—like she was just commenting about the weather—it infuriated Becky.

Her phone now plugged in after a very, very strange day, she sends a message to Irin and ask her to meet her before the premier on her dressing room for advice. Not to mention that the expert’s birthday is near. She wanted her cousin’s advice on what to do with what she heard and with planning the perfect birthday surprise for her Freen.

She contemplated about messaging the expert, but her head was still reeling towards what she heard and considering that Becky basically ghosted her today, albeit unintentionally, she thinks it’s better to sleep on everything first and calm down first. She didn’t want to say things she would regret just because she’s angry and emotionally highjacked.

So, she laid down and let the comfort of her mattress lull her to a sleep as she succumb to the exhausting day she had.

The morning wasn’t less chaotic as her mind.

Blaine basically barged into her room, urging her to get ready because she slept through her alarm again. She didn’t know what time she finally fell asleep last night, all she knew was she fell asleep with her mind still swirling with thoughts of Freen and her past with Izumi.

She groggily prepares for the day, her eyes still half-closed by the time she stepped out of the shower. Blaine laid her outfit for today on the bed and easily wore it.

“Blaine, what did my mom tell you about where I was yesterday?” Becky asked as soon as they settled into the car.

“Hmm? She just told me that she was with you and not to worry about contacting you for the rest of the day,” Blaine replied.

“And what did you tell Freen?”

“Exactly that. That you’re with your mom. Wait, what happened yesterday?”

With that, Becky told her what happened the entire day.

“Oh my God I didn’t know! I’m so sorry, Bec! Had I known that you were on a shoot, I would’ve told Freen about it. I’m really sorry!”

“It’s okay. I told mom to tell you, but I guess she conveniently left that detail and I don’t know why. You’re my assistant, you should know everything. I have no idea what mom was thinking.”

With that, the car eased into silence. She still yet to contact Freen. She knows she had to do it sometime, but she had to clear her mind as to not regret anything. And for that to happen, she needed her cousin.

Thankfully, Irin was already at the venue when they arrived.

The moment she sat down, Mosby started to do his magic. Then, she remembered how she promised Freen a surprise. With a glint on her eyes and a smile on her face, she turned to Mosby.

“Mosby, can you make my hair into a messy bun?”

“Messy bun?” Mosby fiddled with her hair and thought about it. Then, “I think I could work with that,” he said with a smile. “You’ll be gorgeous!”

“Thanks, P’Mo,” Becky says with a smile.

Irin caught the interaction, “So, messy bun, huh? Is it a homage for someone?”

Becky smiled, her gaze distant, almost yearning. “Of course, it’s for my Freen!”

Irin rolled her eyes, “Ugh, could you any more down? Jeez, Becs, she’s yours already!”

“I know. All mine,” Becky says as she smiles sheepishly.

“So? Why did you need me?”

And with that, Becky remembered her dilemma. She took her time to tell Irin about it, about what she thinks about the relationship between Freen and Izumi, about Izumi’s actions towards Freen, how Freen responded—everything.

It was a moment before Irin talked.

“Not that I am all for Ted Bundy… but, have you ever thought that it might have been one-sided? That Freen genuinely thinks Izumi as just a friend, but Izumi felt otherwise? And that Freen didn’t react as shocked as she should have because Freen was aware?”

“All the more reason why it infuriated me that she told me she’s just a friend!” Becky exclaimed, “It might have been that Freen thinks that their relationship was just friends, but it wouldn’t hurt to tell me that Izumi thinks otherwise. I was blindsided, Irin. You have no idea how rooted I was when Izumi just dropped that bombshell like she was just taking a stroll down the park!”

“Okay, I see you,” Irin says softly, soothing Becky down with her voice. “But maybe Freen didn’t want you to worry about it anymore than you should. Look, I see the way she looks at you. God, girl, she looks at you like the whole universe could collapse and she wouldn’t care as long as you’re with her.” Irin rolls her eyes, “Ugh! It’s infuriatingly cute and annoying!”

Becky heaved a sigh, “I guess you’re right. But I still ought to confront her about this. I’ll go straight to her after this and have a proper talk.”

“Okay, good thing we established that. So, is that all?”

“No, I need you to help me prepare a surprise party for Freen this Monday. I’m thinking something about Harry Potter or something about one of her games, maybe Zelda or God of War? I don’t know. We’ll talk about it after the premier with the guys.”

“Oh God. Tell me you didn’t just get in a relationship with a kid! It’s like planning a boy’s birthday party. I swear!”

Becky chuckles, “I think at this point, she’s just walking kid-at-heart with a paycheck.”

“No shit!” Irin says, chuckling with the actress. “You have anything else in mind?”

“Yes…” Becky trails off.

“And? What is it? What are you planning?”

“I’m planning to tell everyone that I now have someone special to me,” Becky says, her eyes distant once more. Her chest feeling lighter, she smiles thinking how the expert will react with her announcement later.

Irin let out a high-pitch squeal that hurt the people around the room. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Really? Oh my God! You fucking sap!”

“Irin! Shh! Oh my God! You’re even more excited as I am!”

“Of course! Oh my God that nerd will blush so much! I think you’ll kill her tonight, Becs!”

“I’ve finally found some courage, Irin. I may not have the courage to tell the world the whole truth yet, but I think I’ve gathered enough courage to tell the world that someone is now special and dear to my heart.”

“Oh my God you go girl! I support you so fucking much! I’m proud of you!”

“Thanks, Irin. Wish me luck.”

They ease into other set of banter, about Irin’s work, about how Janus apologized among other things.

Little did they know, there was someone listening—someone who will ruin Becky’s surprise in an act of cruelty and self-preservation.

Rawee rushed towards Janus’s room as fast as her little legs could carry her.

“Janus,” Rawee says, barging into the actor’s room.

Janus calmly looked up towards the lady just entered, “Yes, Khun Rawee? What can I help you with?”

“I told you yesterday that I’ll help you with Becky, right? Well, I know she will announce something during your press-conference before the premier and I need you to act like you’re the one she’s talking about.”

“What is it about, Khun?”

“She’ll tell everyone that she has someone now and I need you to imply that it is you.”

“Why would I do that?” Janus says, his tone was shrill, knowing that it’ll be a lie, “I know it’s not me! I don’t want to do that to Becky—”

“Look, do you want to be with Becky?”

“Yes, of course—”

“Then listen to me. She will announce something during the program,” Rawee irritated, “Something about having someone. Imagine the free promotions, the free campaigns if you claim it for yourself!”

“But it’s wrong! I know it’s not me!”

“It doesn't matter!” Rawee spat, “They won’t know that it’s a lie!”

Janus heaved a sigh, “She will hate me, Khun.”

“No, she won’t. Leave that to me.”

---

Becky didn’t know how it happened. She was walking at the center of the table, ready to answer the media, her heart threatening to beat out of her ribs. She’s never really been this nervous with interviews before. She tries to breathe through the crowd, her announcement itching to spill out of her mouth. She was startled when the MC introduced them to the crowd and one by one, they answered their questions.

Then, one of the reporters started asking. “Miss Becky, are you still single? Or are you and Mister Janus already dating?”

Becky remembers chuckling her polished laugh. “I am still single,” she says, her heart drumming so loud that she could barely hear herself and what she was saying, “But there’s someone, though, and they are very, very special suitor to me,” she smiles and scans the crowd when she saw Freen—her Freen, just sitting there, like she just didn’t take Becky’s breath away with her tailored suit and her gorgeous hair.

She didn’t know how Freen got there, or maybe she was just hallucinating from longing but God! To look like that must come with a warning label because just by looking at her, Becky could think of a million ways to get rid of that crisp shirt and just—

‘Okay, okay. Stop. You’re at a conference. Stop acting like you want to devour her—but oh God I do want so.’

A shy smile tugs on her lips as she sees how Freen reacted with her surprise. She could see Freen’s soul leaving her body with her revelation and it was so worth it that she couldn’t stop looking at the expert.

Then, the reporter turned to Janus with the same question. Clearing his throat, he smiled at Becky, though Becky was still looking at Freen, “Of course I am,” Janus said, his gaze never leaving Becky’s face, “But I’m here to tell you that I am officially courting Miss Armstrong.”

That got Becky’s attention because what the fuck is this asshole talking about?

She didn’t have enough time to react or correct Janus’s insinuation when the media rose to its feet, and the MC had to cut the program short.

They were ushered towards the red carpet, taking pictures together with Janus. The moment they were near enough with each other, Becky didn’t hesitate.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Becky seethes through her smiles with voice loud enough just for Janus to hear. “You know damn well that I wasn’t talking about you!”

“I know,” Janus whispered back, “But your mom told me to anticipate it and do something to make it seem like I was the one you’re talking about.”

“Why? And why the fuck would you agree to it?”

They walked now towards their seats, settling down at the front of the big screen. Janus didn’t respond because they had to stop their discussion as the opening scenes of the movie starts.

As soon as the credits roll, they immediately walk towards a conference room with both their managers.

“Becks, I swear I didn’t agree. Not at first. But Khun Rawee made a point that it would help promote us and I thought fan service is not a bad thing. I mean, we used to do it before.”

“But that was before I was with someone, Janus! For fuck’s sake I just forgave you and you do something to mess shit up again!”

“Don’t blame him, Rebecca.” Rawee entered the room, her posture composed as ever. “You were going to do something stupid and announce to everyone that you have someone. What do you think the sponsors and the directors would say if it’s not Janus you’re talking about?”

“Why on Earth would they care? They aren’t the kind of people who would judge me with who I date!” Becky seethes once more. “Blaine, schedule a conference with the media. I swear I will announce that I wasn’t talking about Janus at all!”

“Think, Rebecca!” Rawee’s voice now shrill with annoyance on her daughter’s defiance, “What would it look like to the media? How will they twist your words? For once, stop thinking about that woman and start thinking about your career! You are not yet at your peak!”

“What are you talking about, mom? It isn’t the death of my career if I tell them that it’s not Janus! And if sponsors and directors have a problem with my dating preferences, I don’t think I’d want to work with them any longer.”

“All of you, out!” Rawee says, “Let me talk to my daughter alone!”

All three went outside, giving them space. Then, Rawee started once more. “You are not that big yet to turn these sponsors down, Rebecca! You are destroying your career just for someone who is not even at your level! Do you think that girl could handle the stress and the mental strain from dating a celebrity?”

“I trust her! And she won’t be alone! I’ll be with her, and I will protect her as much as I could!”

“Oh? You would protect her, wouldn’t you?” Rawee’s voice now softer, yet, more dangerous. “How would you protect her from losing her job?”

“What on earth are you talking about, mom?”

“You heard me. I personally know the owner of Diversity Tech. One word from me and he would fire your little girlfriend. How would you protect her from losing her job, hmm?”

Becky’s blood ran cold. “You wouldn’t,” she says with much conviction as she can. But a crack on her voice betrayed her. She knows how much Freen loves her job, how her eyes sparkle with what data she was tinkering with, how she smiles with every graph and map she would show Becky.

“Data is so beautiful.” Freen told her one quiet day while they were hanging out at Freen’s apartment. They were lounging on the couch, her head on Becky’s lap, knees folded to accommodate the laptop that was perched on Freen’s thighs. “Did you know that you could predict the winning lotto numbers with enough data and accurate statistics?”

She can’t. She can’t be the reason why Freen loses her job.

“If you’re thinking that she could just apply on another company, you have it wrong. I would make sure she won’t ever touch a laptop for work, let alone type a line of code for a living.”

“Mom…” Becky tries to swallow the lump on her throat. “Please don’t do this. Please. I’m your daughter… please.”

Becky could only beg as the horror of what Rawee was saying sinks.

“I am not cruel, Rebecca,” Rawee says softly. She reached her cheek, cupping it and tracing circles, wiping her tears. “I will give her a chance to prove herself to me.”

“R-Really?” Becky wasn’t able to hide how hopeful she was.

“Yes, of course. But you’ll have to act with Janus. Just a fan service. It won’t hurt, right? I mean, your girl would understand, right?”

“R-Right, she will. T-Thank you, mom,” Becky says, still sobbing, still hurting. But she held into her mother’s words. A small chance for approval, that’s all they needed.

Becky carefully wiped her tears and went out of the room. Janus was waiting for her outside, pacing.

“Becks, what happened? I’m really sorry. It was very impulsive. Please, please forgive me.”

“I don’t have energy for you, Janus. Please leave me the fuck alone.”

“Please, Becks, I really am sorry.”

“Then why the fuck did you do it! Why, Janus?! You know it would break my heart!”

“I was selfish again. Khun Rawee made so much sense, and I didn’t think—”

“That’s it! You didn’t think! Again! Janus, I’m so, so exhausted. Just go.”

Janus heaved a sigh. “Tell me about him.”

“What?”

“Your someone. Tell me about him.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s not a ‘him’,” Becky betrays a smile.

“What—seriously? Becks! I didn’t know! Oh God what I did was even more fucked up—I’m so, so sorry!”

“Well, you damn well should be! Jesus, do you have any idea how long it took for me just to admit I had someone, and you ruined it!”

“But, for what it’s worth,” Janus said softly, “I’m proud of you for having the courage to speak out, especially towards your mom. Your mom is scary as fuck!”

Opening the door to her dressing room, Becky laughed at Janus’s comment. “Well, that, she is. But I had to stand up to her. She’s not—”

She was cut off when Janus was suddenly pushed through the wall. Freen slammed him on the wall, her forearm pressed on his throat.

“How dare you!” Freen hissed. Becky was shocked, and for the nth time today, her blood ran cold once more, rooted at the spot. “Do you have any idea how much courage it took Becky just to say that? How dare you desecrate it so easily?” Freen’s voice was dangerously calm, and Becky could see how Janus rapidly gasps for air, suffocating.

Then, she panicked when Janus’s lips was starting to blue. It seemed that on her rage, Freen didn’t realize that she was slowly crushing Janus’s throat. Before she could stop herself, “Freen! Stop! Let go of him!” she shouted and pushed Freen so hard that she stumbled and fell.

She saw her reaction, how her eyes widened with shock. She immediately tries her hardest to mask her panic, tries her best not to give Janus any reason to think that Freen was the one whom she was talking about.

She reached out to him, making sure he was okay as he gasps for breath, as Janus cradles his throat.

“What are you doing here?” Becky asks, her hands soothing his arms.

Freen blinked, her shock evident. Becky had to make sure, had to shield Freen, even if she it breaks her heart to treat Freen as a stranger, “What?” Freen’s voice cracked.

“I said what are you doing here, Miss Chankimha?” Becky repeats, strengthening her resolve as she tries her best to act indifferent towards the expert.

“I—I was just—”

“You think you could just attack people out of the blue?” Becky pushes through her heart even though it hurts to breathe because of it.

“I—I thought—”

“You thought what, Miss Chankimha?” Janus says hoarsely, finally recovering from the initial shock.

And before Freen can answer, Becky didn’t let her finish. She was so scared of Janus now and on what he could do to Freen, especially now that she basically assaulted him. “We’re done here, Miss Chankimha. You can leave now,” she said very mechanically, devoid of emotions.

“I see,” Freen says, finally standing up, her voice as mechanical as Becky’s, and somehow, that hurt more than anything. Becky knows Freen was slipping back her mask once more, trying her hardest not to crack under the emotional distress of what was happening. “I apologize for the intrusion and for the violence. Rest assured, it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah it better be!” Janus says. Although he was just beside her, Becky heard him somewhere far as she stares at the back of the girl she was pining for, she was longing for, hoping that she would turn back and look her in the eyes.

But she didn’t turn back.

Becky didn't expect to, but it still broke her all the same.

Janus heaved a sigh, clearing his throat, “What the fuck was that lunatic doing inside your room? I thought I was gonna die!”

“Are you okay,” Becky says, her voice cracking with everything that happened, “I’m so, so sorry about what happened.”

“She almost choked me to death! What was her name? Wasn’t she your friend?” Janus was angry, his throat was still red from the commotion. “I will press charges! How dare she—”

“J-Janus, please don’t,” Becky’s heart hammered at Janus’s remarks, her eyes widened at the possible charges pressed towards Freen. “P-Please don’t. She was just emotional. S-She—”

And with that, Janus connected the dots. His eyes widened with how Becky was panicking, “Oh my God! Becks! Don’t tell me she’s the one!”

But Becky doesn’t seem to hear him with the haze of panic clouding her hearing. “P-Please, Janus. I’ll d-do it. I’ll do the fan service. J-Just please don’t press—”

“Okay,” Janus says as she tries to steady the actress, “Shh. It’s okay. I won’t press charges. Just calm down, okay?”

Becky finally looked at him, tears already streaming down her cheeks as her sobs echoes throughout the room. Janus guides her towards the couch and gave her water. When she finally calmed down, Janus broke the thick silence.

“I won’t press charges, Becs. But I have to be selfish here.”

Becky looked at him once more, waiting for what the actor will say.

“Let me court you as well. You told us that she was still courting you. Let me court you, too. Please. You know how I feel about you. I never hide it. Let me court you for real, not just for fan service. Please give me a chance as well.”

Becky’s eyes softened towards the sincerity of the guy in front of her. But she knows nothing Janus could do would change the fact that he won’t be more than a friend for Becky.

“Janus…” Becky starts, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to lead you on and hurt you. I-I already l—”

“Please, Becks. Just give me a chance.”

“Janus, I appreciate you, really. But I don’t want to hurt you. Freen and I—”

“Then, I’m sorry, Becks. I’ll have to press charges.”

“NO! J-Janus, please no. Please don’t,” Becky starts sobbing once more, the possibility of Freen being persecuted was a nightmare she didn’t know she would have to face. Resigning on Janus’s terms, she nods through her tears, “Okay. Okay, I’ll let you.”

“Oh, Becks! Thank you—”

“But I warn you, it’s hopeless.” Becky says, “I’d do anything for her, anything. And I won’t have anything to give to you because she has everything of me.”

Janus visibly swallows the lump on his throat with what Becky declared, “Okay,” he said, “Okay. But still, let me do this.”

With that, Janus left the room, leaving Becky to stare at nothing before Blaine came entering. Silently, she gathers all of Becky’s stuff and ushered her out of the room, Becky still staring blankly at nothing.

“Blaine, can you take me to Freen’s?” Becky says, her voice hoarse from all the emotions she had the entire day. She had to go to her, to explain everything that she could. Suddenly, she wished she was a little girl once more, being cradled by her dad’s strong warmth as she dig through her purse, looking for the thing she treasured the most.

Then, she saw it. Cradling it on both her palms like something fragile and easily broken.

The pink whistle.

The umbrella was long destroyed by childish reckless, a relic of time that was long discarded. But to Becky, the whistle that came with it was something that grounds her. She didn’t know when the tears fell. She just noticed her palms getting wet as droplets fall on it.

She fell asleep, exhaustion taking her during the ride.

As her consciousness fade, one thing came to her mind…

‘Dad, I just feel so lost right now. Please, if I blow this whistle once more, will you come and rescue me? Will you come and get me from everything that hurts?’

Chapter Text

Becky found herself sprinting out of a familiar building. The look on Freen’s face—shock, anger, disgust—was still etched on her mind as she clings to Izumi.

“What are you doing here? We’re done. You lost me, Becky,” Freen’s voice was cold, her words stabbing Becky like an icicle piercing through her heart.

Izumi tightened her hold behind Freen, “Please, Becky. Just leave. Don’t disturb us, now. You’ve lost your shot.”

With all the strength that she had, she pried herself away from the scene, and Becky ran. Ran towards the stairs, not bothering to wait for the lift as she spiral down the stairs—down to despair. She felt her world crumbling, her lungs burned as her legs scream with pain.

No amount of exercise has prepared her for this. No amount of jogging has prepared her to run away from the one person she always wants to run to.

Then, everything faded. The stairs, the handles—it crumbled to nothingness as her consciousness begins to fade.

Becky jolted awake the moment Blaine pulls up outside Freen’s apartment, shaking from the dream that felt too real.

She had to remind herself that it was just that—just a dream, a nightmare. She shook her head, trying to pry herself away from it as she thanks her secretary and heads straight to the building’s lobby.

She shakes away the remnants of the dream, determined to talk with her girlfriend tonight and explain everything that has happened.

As she presses the button for the 12^th floor, she tries and calls Freen once more, trying to inform her that she’ll be outside her apartment in a minute, remnants of her dream clung to her like a stubborn dirt refusing to be washed. But like the other calls and texts before, it was left unanswered.

As she arrives at Freen’s front door, she knocks, still trying her hardest to be patient and wait for her girlfriend to open the door for her, even though Freen told her the passcode for the apartment’s keyless entry.

“Freen,” Becky tries to knock once more, “Please teerak, let me in. Let’s talk. Please don’t shut me out again,” she cries, knocking continuously.

After 15 minutes of relentless knocking, an elderly couple crack their door open, “Hello, dear,” says the old woman, “are you looking for Freen?”

Wiping her cheeks, she composed herself and nods, “Yes, Khun Mae. Do you happen to know if she’s home?”

“Ah, as far as I know, she left early,” says the old man, “she was unusually dressed and very, very excited. But we haven’t seen her since. She hasn’t gone home, as far as we know.”

With that, she thanks the elderly couple with a wai as they close the door. She sits on the floor, still trying to call Freen but still, to no avail.

Steeling herself, she knocked once more, “Okay, Sarocha,” she exclaimed, “Open the door now and stop ignoring me! Let me explain or I swear I will barge in!”

Still, the silence greeted her back.

With that, she quickly punched the code and entered Freen’s unit. Like what the elderly couple said, the apartment was dark and empty, devoid of warmth that the walls usually carry – devoid of Freen.

She sat on the couch, staring at the quiet space, not bothering to open any light, just quietly waiting, longing for a chance to explain herself, to at least make herself heard as she unknowingly drifted off to sleep, succumbing to the exhaustion this day has led.

She was awoken by the buzzing of her phone the next day, Blaine on the other line. She ignored it, scanning the room for any signs of changes.

Nothing.

She got up and checked Freen’s room and the spare, nothing.

Which means, Freen didn’t come home for the night.

Sighing, she finally calls Blaine back, informing her that she was still at Freen’s apartment.

“Blaine,” she says, her voice still hoarse from sleep and sob, “I’m still here at Freen’s. She didn’t come home last night,” she says, her voice breaking.

“I’m sorry, Becks. I know how badly you want to talk to her, but your schedule is a little jam-packed today.”

Becky’s brows furrowed, “What do you mean? It’s the weekend.”

“I know, Becks. But your mom scheduled some shoots for Vague and Channel the whole morning and a table read for your movie with Janus at 3PM. I’m really sorry but we can’t cancel.”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was still on her clothes from last night and her make-up still on. “Alright, can you pick me up? I’ll just freshen up at home.”

“Huh? Aren’t you at Freen’s? Don’t you have some clothes there to wear?”

“I do, I do. It’s just that,” Becky let out a sigh and palmed her face while pacing the room, “It’s just that this place doesn’t feel right without Freen in it. It’s like, all of the warmth that this place held was gone. I don’t know, Blaine. I’m really scared. I don’t want this to break us.”

“Alright, alright. Calm down, queen. Wait for me. I’m almost there, Becks.”

“Thank you.”

As they were pulling out of Freen’s building, she couldn’t help but send another string of messages and tries to call the expert once more. It worried Becky that Freen didn’t go home for the entire night.

Becky’s day was exhausting – both emotionally and physically. Her mom was there, an overbearing eye that makes everything feel heavy and suffocating. But behind every break that Becky has, every breather, she seeks only one attention – Freen’s.

Still calling.

Still texting.

Still trying her hardest to make herself be heard.

Becky breezes through her day—at least tries to, her brain on auto-pilot as she navigates through various poses as if it was a muscle memory. When they got to the table read, she didn’t even bat an eye when Janus entered the conference room.

He strutted towards Becky, his usual air of confidence, holding his usual sly smile and a bouquet of roses.

“Hi, Becks,” he said, his perfume unpleasantly invading Becky’s senses. “These are for you.”

“Thanks,” she says, devoid of emotions, her attention miles away from where she was, or probably just around the corner—just wherever Freen is right now. She accepts the bouquet, setting it down somewhere she won’t even bother to remember.

And Janus noticed.

“Becks, I thought we would try,” Janus whispered, his voice carried an unusual uncertainty, almost insecure.

“I didn’t say I’d try, Janus,” Becky responds with cold intensity. “You forced me to let you ‘court’ me, when I already told you it’s useless. So, you don’t get to dictate how I react with it.”

Before he could answer, Becky turned back to the script she was cradling, still half-distracted.

After the table read, she didn’t linger. She quickly gathered her things and made a beeline to her car, ignoring Janus’s calls on the way out.

She quickly navigates the familiar route to Freen’s, still chasing after the expert, even though she expected the cold and empty apartment that greeted her.

‘This is all my fault, I know,’ Becky thinks as she sits down on the familiar couch that became her last night’s bed, ‘but why do I feel like I’m the only one working for this? Why do I feel like I never deserved to be heard?’

She ponders as quiet tears begin to cascade down her cheeks. She loves Freen. So much that it scares her how much she is willing to sacrifice for her. So much that even though she is desperate to cry for help, to unease the pressure and the burden that the world giving, she would still do it in a heartbeat for Freen.

Always for Freen.

And yet, why is it so hard?

Why is it so hard for her to go against her mom? Why, after everything that Rawee did, Becky still craves for her approval? Becky still longs for that image where both her mom and her girlfriend would be on good terms. She knows that Freen tries, that Freen is trying.

But will she count on her mom to honestly give them a chance?

She just has to do a fan service with Janus, right?

“I am not cruel, Rebecca. I will give her a chance to prove herself to me.”

Rawee’s voice echoes on the walls of the empty room. Will she, really? She wanted to believe. She had to. Because no matter how hard it was to leave her mom back when things were devastating, no matter how much she distanced herself to Rawee, Becky will always care for her, will always love her, will always long for her approval.

Becky knows she craves for that soft smile and ever softer eyes whenever Rawee would look at them before. Back when times were simpler, happier.

And deep down, even with how much she detests what her mom says, she knows she can never fully hate her. Because Becky might not know her mom from birth, but Rawee was there with her since hers.

So, despite the clawing feeling of otherwise, Becky believes her. Despite the otherwise, Becky trusts her.

Because what else can she do?

What else can she do, when all her life, all she wanted was for Rawee to look at her with those soft eyes once more, with that kind smile—the smile that makes her feel like her mom is actually proud of what she was doing.

The next day came all too quickly, with the dew of dawn lifting over Bangkok’s skyline. Still, she felt lost. She relied on muscle memory to navigate through rest of the weekend, while her mind was somewhere else—or rather, with someone.

Monday couldn’t get fast enough. As the clock ticks by, Becky swears the universe has been mocking her, slowing the time down as inhumanely sluggish as possible. By the time she pulls up on the familiar set, she immediately looks for Freen.

‘She has to be here,’ Becky thought. ‘She wouldn’t ditch me again.’

So, she asks the crew if they had seen the expert around and was directed into the writer’s room where the screenwriters brainstorm ideas and scripts.

She finds her girlfriend with huge headphones sticking to her head, her brows furrowed in mid-concentration, as if trying hard to drown the noise outside. Becky could see that Freen, too, was not well. She could see dark spots on her sunken eyes and swell on still-red eyes.

As she walked near Freen, she could smell the nicotine off her, as if all the expert did during the weekend was to smoke packs away.

Somehow, that made her blood boil.

Over her unheard explanations, the weight of expectations, not just from her mom, not just from her relationship, but also from the society that supported her.

It was just too much.

But she had to work with what she had. She can’t lose Freen. Not now, not ever.

So, she tugs the headphones off her girlfriend, knowing that it would catch her attention.

“What’s your problem—”

“Where were you?” she interrupted, lifting her sunglasses with her forefinger up the bridge of her nose. She had to wear them since she didn’t want people to know how puffy her eyes looked.

She hears Freen heave a sigh, “Good morning, Miss Armstrong,” she said, too formally, like she didn’t make Becky worry through the weekend, like she didn’t break her heart with her silence. “Do you have any questions regarding the script?” Freen asked, ignoring Becky once more.

“I said, where were you?” Becky tried to control it, tried to mask it, but something spilled through her walls that only Freen could crack. All the anguish from the premier, from Janus’s threat, her mom’s, now, Freen’s cold detachment—it was too much.

Too much.

“I believe that question is not on the scope of my job here, Miss Armstrong. I’m afraid I can’t answer you.”

Too much.

Did she hear that right? Freen was still her girlfriend, right? She was not too late, right?

“The entire weekend, I cannot get a hold of you. I visited you, waited at your apartment all day, but you never came home.” Becky’s voice let out a sob, she couldn’t hold it anymore as her voice cracked as her walls crumble, “you disappeared on me again when you promised not to.”

“Oh? And why would you do that? I’m just someone you work with, someone whom you consult with your scripts.”

‘No. You are more than that. I cannot lose you. I will not lose you.’

“Please, teerak, please let me explain—”

“Teerak? Who are you calling ‘teerak’, Miss Armstrong?” Freen looked around, as if expecting other people to magically claim to be the one whom she called, like there could be someone else to replace her that easily, “certainly not me. I’m not your ‘teerak’. We’re done, right? You made that very, very clear.”

‘Done? No, no, no. No!’

Too much. Too much!

Becky panics as she continues to sob her explanation, “Freen, no… please just let me explain. Janus was just—”

“Janus is there.”

‘Janus. I don’t fucking care about Janus!’

But then, he was here, like an unwanted noise that refused to be silenced.

“Becky? I rented a stall of your favorite matcha place.”

‘I don’t give a fuck.’

“They’re here to serve everyone the whole day. Do you want to check it out?”

‘Fuck. I don’t need this. I don’t need you! Get the fuck out!’ Becky wanted to say.

But all she could stammer was “J-Janus, you’re here,” remembering his threat of suing Freen. She tries hard to mask her unravelling in front of the man that coerced her into whatever shit was happening now as she forced a smile. “Can you wait outside for a moment? I just have to ask something with Freen—”

“No, no,” Freen says, already putting back her headphones, looking back with her script, as if Becky was just some stupid actress that needs help understanding Math. “I believe we’re done here, Miss Armstrong. You can go now.”

‘Is that all I was to you, Freen?’ Becky thought. ‘Don’t I deserve to at least explain myself to you? To at least hear me out? To at least have a voice?’

The pressure suffocated her, pressing down on her chest like an invisible fist that squeezes her insides. She stares at the expert, trying to memorize her face.

Becky knows how hard Freen tries not to look at her.

Becky knows how hard Freen tries to build a wall once more.

And if Becky was being honest, she doesn’t know if she could melt it this time.

So, she does what she always do.

She respects Freen and takes a step back, opening the door away from the one she longed for. It clicked behind her, a sound too loud and too quiet at the same time.

She puts on a mask, smiles through the crowd—because that’s what Becky was, right?

Becky the sunshine.

Becky the little ball of joy.

Becky that lifts people up with her dimpled smile.