Work Text:
The alarm went off at 4.47am.
It wasn’t loud.
Just a soft melody Namping had chosen months ago because it was supposed to make waking up easier.
These days, it only reminded him how little sleep he’d had.
His eyes opened almost immediately.
Not because he felt rested.
Because his body had long since learned there was no point trying to steal another five minutes.
Beside him, Keng was still asleep.
One arm stretched across the bed, hair sticking up in every direction, lips slightly parted as he breathed steadily into the pillow.
Namping smiled.
It was small.
Sleepy.
Real.
Maybe the only real smile he’d have all day.
Carefully, he leaned over and brushed his lips against Keng’s forehead.
“So warm,” he murmured.
Keng made a tiny, incoherent sound in his sleep before instinctively reaching toward the empty space Namping had already slipped out of.
Even asleep, he searched for him.
Namping’s smile lingered for another second.
Then it disappeared.
Work mode.
By 6am, he was sitting in front of a brightly lit vanity mirror.
A stylist curled his hair.
Someone dabbed concealer beneath his eyes.
Another person adjusted the collar of his shirt.
“Good morning, nong!”
“Morning.”
“You look sleepy.”
He laughed politely.
“Didn’t sleep much.”
“Aigoo, actors.”
The makeup artist smiled sympathetically.
“You’ll sleep after today.”
Namping smiled back.
“Hopefully.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her…
He’d been saying hopefully for almost three weeks.
The studio lights were blinding.
Today’s schedule was a sportswear campaign.
Bright colors.
Morning energy.
Big smiles.
The photographer clapped his hands enthusiastically.
“Okay! Let’s give me something fresh!”
Namping nodded.
Click.
“Beautiful!”
Click.
“A little happier!”
Click.
“Perfect!”
Click.
“One more!”
Another smile.
Another pose.
Another adjustment.
Another outfit.
The hours blurred together.
Every smile looked exactly like the one before it.
Around eleven, someone handed him a bottle of water.
“Drink.”
He accepted it gratefully.
Before he could twist the cap open—
“Five minutes!”
The assistant director called out.
“We’re changing sets!”
The water stayed unopened.
By one in the afternoon, he was already on the opposite side of the city.
Drama filming.
He changed into his costume while memorizing revised dialogue that had arrived less than twenty minutes earlier.
His co-star gave him an apologetic smile.
“They changed the script again.”
“I saw.”
“You okay?”
“Just tired.”
“You’ve been saying that every day.”
Namping chuckled.
“I guess I’m consistently tired.”
His co-star laughed.
Neither of them noticed that Namping hadn’t eaten lunch.
Keng noticed.
He walked onto the set an hour later, still in casual clothes after finishing a radio interview across town.
In one hand, he carried two iced coffees.
In the other…
A paper bag from Namping’s favorite chicken rice stall.
He found Namping sitting on a folding chair between takes.
Head tilted back.
Eyes closed.
Still wearing his microphone pack.
“Namping.”
No response.
“Baby.”
Namping startled awake so suddenly he almost dropped the script in his lap.
“Oh.”
His voice was rough.
“When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago.”
Keng crouched beside him.
“You were asleep sitting up.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
“You were snoring.”
“I do not snore.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I breathe dramatically.”
Keng laughed.
“There he is.”
“There who is?”
“My boyfriend.”
Namping blinked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been looking so serious all day.”
“I’ve been working.”
“I know.”
Keng handed him the paper bag.
“So I brought lunch.”
Namping stared at it for a second.
“…I forgot.”
“What?”
“Lunch.”
“I forgot there was lunch.”
Keng’s smile faded almost imperceptibly.
He opened the bag and placed a pair of chopsticks in Namping’s hand.
“Eat.”
“What about you?”
“I already did.”
“You waited.”
“I did.”
“You liar.”
“I am.”
Namping laughed quietly before taking the first bite.
Only then did Keng seem to relax.
He’d learned long ago that when Namping was busy, he sometimes forgot to eat—not intentionally, just because his mind became so occupied with the next scene, the next schedule, the next obligation.
Lately, though…
It was happening more often.
“You’ve lost weight.”
Namping rolled his eyes.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“I’ve just been busy.”
“I know.”
Keng reached up and absentmindedly brushed a loose strand of hair away from Namping’s forehead.
It was a gesture so familiar neither of them thought about it.
“Promise me something.”
“Hm?”
“If you’re too busy to eat…”
He nudged the paper bag.
“Call me.”
“I’ll bring food.”
Namping smiled.
“You already do.”
“I’ll bring more.”
“You’ll spoil me.”
“I fully intend to.”
Namping laughed again.
This one came easier.
More genuine.
A nearby crew member smiled to herself.
“They’re disgustingly cute,” she whispered to another staff member.
The other nodded.
“But at least he laughed.”
“What?”
“Namping.”
The crew member looked over.
“He hasn’t laughed like that all morning.”
Neither actor heard them.
By the time filming wrapped…
It was almost eight at night.
Most people looked exhausted.
Namping looked…
Empty.
He thanked every crew member individually before leaving.
Bowed to the director.
Thanked the lighting team.
The makeup artists.
The costume department.
The runners.
Every single person.
Then he climbed into the company van.
Closed his eyes.
And fell asleep before the engine even started.
The next morning…
The alarm rang again.
4.52am.
Namping reached over to silence it.
For a moment…
He couldn’t remember what day it was.
Monday?
Tuesday?
Wednesday?
They had all started to feel the same.
Beside him, Keng was awake this time.
Still lying on his side, watching him.
“Morning.”
Namping smiled automatically.
“Morning.”
Keng didn’t smile back immediately.
Instead, he reached out and gently touched the faint purple shadows beneath Namping’s eyes.
“You slept four hours.”
Namping shrugged.
“I’ve survived on less.”
“I know.”
“I’ll sleep after this week.”
Keng had heard that sentence before.
Last week.
The week before.
The week before that.
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Namping’s forehead.
Then another kiss landed on the tip of his nose.
Then one on his cheek.
Namping laughed, trying to push him away.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.”
“What?”
“Whether my boyfriend still knows how to smile before the cameras steal him for the day.”
Namping’s laughter softened.
“You make me sound like I’m going off to war.”
Keng’s expression turned gentle.
“No.”
He brushed his thumb across Namping’s cheek.
“Just… come home to me tonight.”
Namping’s heart squeezed.
He smiled.
A real one.
“I always do.”
Keng smiled back.
“I know.”
He just didn’t notice…
That Namping had started saying it like a promise.
Almost as if he were reminding himself there was still one place in the world where he didn’t have to be “Actor Namping.”
Not yet.
Not for a few more days.
The interview that would quietly unravel everything…
Was still waiting.
If someone had asked Namping what day it was…
He wouldn’t have known.
The days no longer had names.
They were schedules.
Call times.
Wardrobe changes.
Locations.
The alarm.
The van.
Hair.
Makeup.
Smile.
Repeat.
The following week disappeared before he even realized it had begun.
Monday.
A skincare campaign.
“Namping, chin up a little.”
“Perfect.”
“Can we get one more smile?”
He smiled.
“Beautiful!”
“One more.”
Smile.
“Wonderful.”
“One more.”
Smile.
Tuesday.
A variety show recording.
The host made everyone laugh until tears rolled down their faces.
Namping laughed too.
Or…
At least, he knew he was supposed to.
When the recording ended, one of the staff members approached him.
“You laugh exactly the same on television as you do in real life.”
Namping smiled politely.
“If only you knew,” he thought.
Wednesday.
Outdoor filming.
Thirty-four degrees.
Three-piece suit.
Take after take beneath the afternoon sun.
By the eighth take, his shirt clung to his back.
The assistant director called for another.
The director apologized.
“Just one more.”
Namping nodded before anyone could ask twice.
He had become very good at saying yes.
Thursday.
Magazine interview.
“What inspires you?”
“My family.”
“What motivates you?”
“My fans.”
“What’s your biggest goal this year?”
“To keep improving.”
The answers flowed effortlessly.
Practiced.
Polished.
He smiled after every one of them.
The journalist complimented him afterward.
“You’re such an easy person to interview.”
Namping bowed.
“Thank you.”
As soon as he stepped into the elevator…
The smile slipped away before the doors had even closed.
Friday.
His manager handed him an updated schedule.
“We’ve had another sponsor come in.”
Namping scanned the page.
Photoshoot.
Commercial.
Drama set.
Live broadcast.
Radio appearance.
Interview.
Fan sign.
Another commercial.
Another fitting.
Another interview.
He blinked.
“…Is this all next week?”
His manager gave him an apologetic smile.
“They specifically requested you.”
It was supposed to be good news.
Namping knew that.
It meant people wanted him.
It meant he was in demand.
It meant his career was growing.
So why…
Did it suddenly feel so heavy?
That night, he got home just after midnight.
The apartment lights were still on.
Keng was sitting on the sofa.
Laptop balanced on his knees.
The moment the front door opened…
He looked up.
“There you are.”
“You should be asleep.”
“I was waiting.”
“You’ve got filming tomorrow.”
“So do you.”
Namping laughed quietly as he slipped off his shoes.
“You always wait.”
“I always will.”
Keng stood.
Walked over.
Without a word…
He reached for Namping’s tie.
Loosened it.
Slid it free.
Then began undoing the first few buttons of his shirt.
Namping stood completely still.
Too tired to protest.
Too tired to help.
Keng looked up.
“…You okay?”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve said three words since you came home.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.”
Another button.
Another.
“You ate dinner?”
“…I think.”
“You think?”
“I had something.”
“What did you have?”
Namping opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He frowned.
Trying to remember.
Then…
He laughed.
“…I can’t remember.”
Keng stopped unbuttoning his shirt.
His hands stilled.
“You can’t remember?”
“I probably ate.”
“‘Probably’?”
“There was catering.”
“So… yes?”
“…Maybe.”
The silence that followed was much louder than either of them wanted.
Finally, Keng sighed.
“I’m making you noodles.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“I’m doing it anyway.”
While the water boiled…
Namping wandered into the kitchen.
He leaned against the counter.
Watching Keng cook.
Or…
Attempt to cook.
“You’ve put the seasoning in twice.”
Keng froze.
“…Have I?”
“Mhm.”
He looked down.
“…I have.”
Namping laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Keng grinned.
“There you are.”
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to get that laugh back all week.”
Namping looked at him.
“…Have you?”
“Mhm.”
“You keep disappearing.”
The words were light.
Almost teasing.
But something about them made Namping’s chest tighten.
“I’m right here.”
“I know.”
Keng stirred the noodles.
“But…”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“…Sometimes it feels like your body’s here…”
“…and the rest of you is still at work.”
Namping didn’t know what to say.
Because…
Keng was right.
A few days later…
Keng was filming on the lot next door.
During lunch, he wandered over carrying two drinks.
He found Namping exactly where he’d expected.
Still in costume.
Still holding a script.
Still studying tomorrow’s scenes instead of eating.
Keng placed the drink on the table.
“No reading.”
“Hm?”
“Lunch.”
“I’ll eat after this.”
Keng quietly reached over.
Closed the script.
“Nuh-uh.”
“…Keng.”
“Food.”
“They changed my scenes.”
“Food.”
“I need to memorise—”
“Food.”
Namping sighed dramatically.
“You’re bossy.”
“I’m dating an actor who forgets basic human needs.”
“I don’t forget.”
“You forgot your wallet yesterday.”
“…”
“You left your phone in wardrobe.”
“…”
“You almost walked onto set wearing slippers.”
“…”
“And this morning…”
Keng smiled.
“You tried brushing your teeth with your face wash.”
Namping stared.
“…I did, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
For the first time in days…
Namping laughed until he had to cover his face.
Crew members nearby turned to look.
Some smiled automatically.
It was nice to hear him laugh.
One of the makeup artists quietly nudged Keng.
“Thank you.”
He looked confused.
“For what?”
“He’s been…”
She searched for the right word.
“…Different lately.”
Keng’s smile faded slightly.
“I know.”
“He smiles…”
She glanced toward Namping.
“…But it doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.”
Keng looked over.
Namping was laughing with another actor now.
His smile looked genuine.
Didn’t it?
Didn’t it?
He wasn’t sure anymore.
That evening…
Keng found himself watching Namping from across the room while filming his own scene.
Noticing things he’d somehow overlooked.
The way Namping rubbed at the back of his neck when nobody was looking.
How he stared blankly at the floor between takes.
How every time someone called his name…
A smile appeared instantly.
Perfect.
Practiced.
Gone the second they looked away.
It wasn’t that Namping wasn’t happy.
It was…
He never seemed to stop performing anymore.
Even off camera.
Three days later…
Namping arrived home before Keng.
An unusual occurrence.
He sat down on the edge of the bed.
Still wearing his jeans.
Still wearing his shoes.
Just…
Sat there.
The apartment was completely silent.
He told himself he should shower.
Instead…
He stared at the bedroom wall.
His mind was strangely empty.
He couldn’t even gather the energy to move.
Almost forty minutes later…
The front door unlocked.
“Namping?”
Keng’s voice echoed through the apartment.
“In here.”
Keng stepped into the bedroom and stopped.
Namping hadn’t moved.
Not even an inch.
His bag still rested by his feet.
Shoes still on.
Tie still hanging loosely around his neck.
“You’ve been sitting here?”
Namping blinked as though he’d only just realized where he was.
“…I think so.”
“For how long?”
“…I’m not sure.”
Keng’s stomach dropped.
He crouched in front of him.
Very gently…
He untied Namping’s shoelaces.
One shoe.
Then the other.
“You don’t have to keep going tonight.”
Namping looked down at him.
“I’ve got tomorrow’s script.”
“It’ll still be there after you shower.”
“I should read it.”
“You should rest.”
“I don’t know how.”
The words came out so quietly…
Keng almost missed them.
“What?”
Namping looked away immediately.
“…Nothing.”
But Keng had heard.
And for the first time…
A tiny knot of worry settled in his chest.
Because “I’m tired” was one thing.
“I don’t know how to rest.”
That…
Was something else entirely.
The interview was in two days.
Neither of them knew…
Just how close Namping was to reaching the end of the strength he’d been borrowing from himself.
The interview was scheduled for eleven in the morning.
It wasn’t even the only thing on Namping’s schedule that day.
He had started with a luxury watch campaign at six.
A wardrobe fitting at eight.
The interview at eleven.
Drama rehearsals immediately after.
Then a sponsor livestream.
A script reading at night.
Tomorrow looked exactly the same.
By the time he arrived at the broadcasting station, his makeup had already been touched up three times.
His manager handed him a cup of coffee.
“You’ve got about fifteen minutes.”
Namping nodded.
“Thanks.”
He took one sip before someone called his name.
“Namping!”
A staff member hurried over.
“Can we borrow you for a quick promotional clip before the interview?”
“Sure.”
“Just thirty seconds.”
Thirty seconds became fifteen minutes.
By the time he returned…
His coffee was cold.
“You ready?”
Keng appeared beside him, already dressed for the interview.
He smiled.
A warm, familiar smile that immediately softened something inside Namping.
“There you are.”
“I’ve been here.”
“I know.”
“But I haven’t seen you all morning.”
Keng frowned slightly as he looked him over.
“You’ve got eye drops?”
“Hm?”
“Your eyes.”
“What about them?”
“They’re a little red.”
Namping blinked.
“Oh.”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“You slept?”
“Barely.”
Keng reached into his bag without another word.
He pulled out a small packet of gummy bears and held it out.
Namping stared at it.
“…Seriously?”
“What?”
“You carry gummy bears?”
“For emergencies.”
“This is an emergency?”
“My boyfriend hasn’t smiled at me yet.”
That earned him one.
Small.
But real.
“There.”
Keng looked absurdly pleased with himself.
“That’s better.”
Namping shook his head, laughing quietly.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
“Actors to Studio Three, please.”
A production assistant opened the door.
“We’re ready for you.”
The set was beautiful.
Soft lighting.
Comfortable chairs.
A pastel backdrop decorated with flowers.
The interviewer greeted them warmly.
“It’s so lovely to finally meet you both.”
She shook Keng’s hand.
Then Namping’s.
“We’re excited to have you.”
Namping smiled politely.
“Thank you for inviting us.”
The producer explained the flow.
“It’ll just be a relaxed conversation.”
“Nothing too formal.”
“We’ll talk about the new drama, your friendship, and some fan questions.”
Easy enough.
Namping relaxed a little.
“Cameras rolling.”
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One.”
The red recording light blinked on.
The interviewer beamed.
“Welcome, everyone! Today we’re joined by two of the most beloved actors in the industry…”
She introduced both of them.
The first few questions were exactly what Namping expected.
How filming was going.
Funny moments on set.
Favorite scenes.
He answered comfortably.
Laughed when Keng teased him.
The atmosphere felt light.
Maybe…
Today wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Then the conversation shifted.
“Keng.”
The interviewer smiled brightly.
“Congratulations on your latest drama.”
“It has been such an incredible success.”
Keng bowed his head slightly.
“Thank you.”
“You’ve received so much praise for your performance.”
“I’m very grateful.”
“Directors always talk about how professional you are.”
Keng smiled shyly.
“I still have a lot to learn.”
Namping looked at him with quiet pride.
That was just who Keng was.
Even after all the success…
He never acted like he’d made it.
“So tell us…”
The interviewer leaned forward.
“What’s the secret?”
Keng blinked.
“The secret?”
“To your success.”
He laughed awkwardly.
“I don’t think there is one.”
“I just try to do my best every day.”
The interviewer laughed.
“That’s such a humble answer.”
“Namping…”
She turned toward him.
“Would you agree?”
Finally.
He straightened slightly.
“I think—”
“Keng.”
She smiled again.
“What was the hardest scene to film?”
Namping stopped.
His mouth remained slightly open for half a second.
Then he quietly smiled.
Lowered his hand.
And let Keng answer.
No one seemed to notice.
The interview continued.
“Keng…”
“Keng…”
“Keng…”
The questions weren’t unfair.
They simply…
Kept finding their way back to him.
Namping answered when he could.
Sometimes only one sentence.
Sometimes not at all.
At one point…
The interviewer laughed.
“I’ve interviewed quite a few directors recently.”
“They all say the same thing.”
She looked at Keng.
“Everyone wants to work with you.”
The crew chuckled.
Keng rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m very lucky.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You’ve earned it.”
Namping smiled.
He really had.
He deserved every word.
So why…
Did his chest suddenly feel so tight?
A fan question appeared on the monitor.
“What has filming taught the two of you?”
The interviewer smiled.
“Namping?”
He blinked.
His first question in almost ten minutes.
He smiled.
“I think filming has taught me that—”
“Keng.”
She laughed.
“I’ll ask you first.”
Everything inside Namping…
Went strangely quiet.
He lowered his eyes.
“…Of course.”
His voice was so soft…
The microphone barely caught it.
The boom operator frowned.
The makeup artist glanced toward the producer.
The producer shifted in his chair.
Something felt…
Off.
Not wrong enough to interrupt.
But enough that people were beginning to notice.
Namping folded his hands neatly in his lap.
He smiled whenever someone looked at him.
Nodded when Keng spoke.
Laughed at the right moments.
Answered the occasional question.
He looked…
Perfect.
Professional.
Exactly as he had been trained to be.
Only one person noticed something different.
The floor manager.
Every time the cameras cut between angles…
He watched Namping’s face.
The smile disappeared instantly.
Not dramatically.
Not sadly.
It simply…
Fell away.
Like someone setting down something heavy for a few seconds before picking it back up again.
Near the end…
The interviewer looked at Keng.
“I think one of the reasons people admire you so much…”
She smiled.
“…is that you always seem so confident.”
Namping’s fingers tightened beneath the table.
Confident.
Successful.
Professional.
Talented.
Every compliment was deserved.
Every single one.
Then why…
Why did it suddenly feel like each one was peeling away another tiny piece of him?
A thought slipped quietly into his mind.
One that had been following him for weeks.
What about me?
He hated himself the moment he thought it.
Because this wasn’t Keng’s fault.
He was proud of him.
He always would be.
So why…
Did he suddenly feel…
Transparent?
He looked toward the cameras.
Toward the crew.
Toward the monitor showing the live feed.
His eyes drifted to the split screen.
Keng smiled as he answered another question.
Beside him…
Namping sat perfectly still.
For a strange moment…
He looked at the screen.
And couldn’t recognize himself.
He wasn’t the laughing person from earlier.
He wasn’t the actor from the posters.
He wasn’t even the person Keng had made laugh with gummy bears barely an hour ago.
He was…
Just someone sitting beside a brighter light.
A tiny voice whispered.
Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be.
His throat tightened painfully.
No.
Stop.
Not here.
Not now.
Smile.
So he did.
“And…”
The director clapped his hands.
“That’s a wrap!”
Applause filled the studio.
The interviewer thanked them both warmly.
“Thank you so much for coming.”
She turned to Keng first.
“You were wonderful.”
Keng smiled politely.
“Thank you for having us.”
She turned to Namping.
“And thank you too.”
He smiled.
“Thank you.”
Nothing about her tone was unkind.
Nothing about the interview had been cruel.
Yet somehow…
Walking off that set felt harder than finishing a sixteen-hour filming day.
As they left the studio, staff members approached them.
“P’Keng, amazing interview!”
“You spoke so well.”
“I loved your answer about success.”
“You were so natural!”
Keng thanked each of them sincerely.
He never noticed…
Namping had quietly stepped aside to make room.
He smiled at everyone.
Bowed.
Congratulated Keng himself.
“You did really well.”
Keng smiled.
“So did you.”
Did I?
Namping wondered.
He wasn’t sure anymore.
A production assistant hurried over.
“P’Namping?”
He looked up immediately.
“Yes?”
“Could you help pass these thank-you gifts to the staff on your way out?”
“Of course.”
He accepted the heavy paper bags without hesitation.
One by one…
He handed them.
He thanked every person individually.
Even now…
He couldn’t stop taking care of everyone else.
From across the hallway, the makeup artist watched him.
She looked toward Keng, who was still speaking with the producer.
Then back at Namping.
A quiet ache settled in her chest.
He looked so tired.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
Like someone who had been smiling for so long…
He’d forgotten what his own face felt like.
Outside…
Rain had begun to fall.
Neither of them noticed.
The drive home would be long.
And neither of them knew…
The hardest part of the day…
Hadn’t happened yet.
The rain followed them all the way home.
Not the kind that pounded against the windshield.
Just a steady drizzle that blurred the city lights into streaks of gold and white.
The company van was unusually quiet.
The staff, exhausted after another full day of schedules, had long since stopped talking.
The stylist leaned against the window with her headphones on.
The makeup artist had fallen asleep with her arms folded.
Even the manager had closed her laptop.
Only the sound of the windshield wipers broke the silence.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Keng looked away from his phone.
He had been replying to his fans’ tweets on today’s interview which is a trending topic on Twitter.
The screen made his eyes ache.
He locked it and slipped it into his pocket.
Only then did he notice…
Namping hadn’t spoken in almost half an hour.
He was sitting beside the window, cheek resting against the cool glass.
Watching raindrops race each other down the surface.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
Keng reached over automatically.
Their hands usually found each other without either of them thinking.
Today…
His fingers rested lightly on top of Namping’s.
Warm.
Still.
Namping didn’t pull away.
But…
He didn’t curl his fingers around Keng’s either.
It was such a tiny thing.
Most people would’ve missed it.
Keng didn’t.
He frowned almost imperceptibly.
“…Baby?”
Namping hummed softly.
“Tired?”
A small nod.
“So tired.”
His voice sounded hoarse.
As though he’d spent the entire day talking.
Which…
He had.
Just not about himself.
Keng smiled gently.
“We’ll get home soon.”
“Mhm.”
“What do you want for dinner?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Namping.”
“Hm?”
“What do you want?”
A long pause.
“…Anything.”
Keng didn’t like that answer.
Because Namping always had an opinion.
Thai food.
Fried chicken.
Noodles.
Hotpot.
Dessert before dinner if he’d had a rough day.
Today…
Nothing.
When the van stopped outside their apartment building, the staff slowly climbed out.
“See you tomorrow!”
“Get some rest!”
“Good night!”
Namping smiled politely at every person.
“You too.”
“Drive safely.”
“Thank you for today.”
Even now…
He remembered to thank everyone.
The makeup artist watched him for a moment before quietly climbing into another vehicle.
She almost said something.
Almost.
Instead…
She sighed.
Maybe tomorrow would be easier.
The elevator ride to the apartment was silent.
Keng leaned against the mirrored wall.
Namping stood beside him.
Their shoulders brushed.
Neither of them moved away.
The elevator dinged.
Home.
The apartment smelled faintly of fabric softener.
There were still mugs in the sink from breakfast.
A hoodie draped over the arm of the sofa.
The blanket they’d forgotten to fold that morning.
Home.
Ordinary.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Keng kicked off his shoes.
“I’m going to shower.”
“Mhm.”
“You coming?”
“In a bit.”
“You sure?”
“I just want to sit down first.”
“Okay.”
Keng smiled.
“Don’t fall asleep on the sofa.”
“I won’t.”
When Keng came back twenty minutes later, hair still damp from the shower…
He found Namping exactly where he’d left him.
Sitting on the edge of the sofa.
Still in his jeans.
Still in yesterday’s thoughts.
The television wasn’t even on.
He was simply…
Sitting.
Looking at nothing.
Keng walked over quietly.
“…Hey.”
Namping looked up, almost startled.
“Hm?”
“You’ve been here this whole time?”
“I think so.”
“You haven’t showered.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t changed.”
“I know.”
“You okay?”
Namping gave him a tired smile.
“I’m just…”
He searched for the word.
“…Really tired.”
There it was again.
Tired.
Keng knelt in front of him.
Not to interrogate him.
Not to force a conversation.
He simply reached over and gently took Namping’s hands.
They felt cold.
“…Come on.”
“Hm?”
“Let’s get you comfortable.”
Like it was the most natural thing in the world…
Keng helped him.
He undid the watch still fastened around Namping’s wrist.
Placed it carefully on the coffee table.
Slipped off the rings Namping always forgot he was wearing.
Unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt.
“You’ve got makeup on your collar.”
Namping looked down.
“…Oh.”
“You missed a spot when you changed.”
“I didn’t even notice.”
“I know.”
Keng smiled softly.
“You’ve been working too hard.”
Namping laughed.
“So have you.”
“I know.”
“But right now we’re talking about you.”
“I’m okay.”
The answer came too quickly.
Too automatically.
Almost like a reflex.
Keng looked at him for a long second.
Then…
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Not because he fully believed it.
But because he knew pushing wouldn’t help.
Not tonight.
They ordered takeout.
The food arrived forty minutes later.
Namping picked at his rice.
Finished barely half.
Keng noticed.
He didn’t comment.
Instead…
He quietly moved a few pieces of chicken onto Namping’s plate.
“You like these.”
Namping looked at the plate.
“…Thank you.”
It reminded Keng of something.
A few months ago…
Namping would’ve stolen them himself.
Claimed they tasted better from Keng’s plate.
Then laughed when Keng pretended to complain.
Tonight…
He simply whispered thank you.
Keng found himself missing the thief.
Later…
They curled up on the sofa beneath the same blanket.
Some random romantic comedy played on television.
Halfway through the movie…
Keng glanced sideways.
Namping was asleep.
Not peacefully.
Just…
Gone.
His body had finally decided it couldn’t stay awake any longer.
Keng smiled to himself.
Carefully…
He lifted the blanket higher over Namping’s shoulders.
Then brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.
“You’ve worked hard.”
He whispered it so quietly that even he barely heard it.
“I’m proud of you.”
Namping didn’t stir.
Just after midnight…
They went to bed.
As always…
Namping instinctively curled closer.
His head resting lightly against Keng’s shoulder.
Keng wrapped an arm around his waist without opening his eyes.
Habit.
Years of habit.
He pressed a sleepy kiss into Namping’s hair.
“Goodnight.”
“…Night.”
Within minutes…
Keng was asleep.
His breathing slow.
Even.
Steady.
Namping listened to it.
He always found comfort in that sound.
Tonight…
It only made his chest ache.
Because Keng looked so peaceful.
So tired.
After carrying his own endless schedules.
After looking after him all evening.
The last thing Namping wanted…
Was to wake him.
He stayed exactly where he was for another hour.
Listening.
Thinking.
Trying.
Trying so hard to make the heaviness go away.
It didn’t.
Instead…
It settled deeper.
Like a stone in his chest.
His eyes drifted toward the digital clock on the bedside table.
2.41am.
Tomorrow’s alarm would ring in just over two hours.
He should sleep.
He needed sleep.
Instead…
He slowly, carefully…
Lifted Keng’s arm from around his waist.
Paused when Keng shifted slightly.
Waited until his breathing evened out again.
Then…
He rolled onto his other side.
Facing away.
Toward the darkness.
He tucked the blanket closer around himself.
Pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes.
“Come on…”
He whispered to himself.
“So stupid…”
“You’ve just had a bad day.”
“Sleep.”
His throat tightened.
“Just…”
“Sleep.”
A tear escaped anyway.
He wiped it away immediately.
Then another.
He bit down on his lower lip.
“No…”
Not tonight.
Please.
Not now.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Tried counting backwards.
Tried slowing his breathing.
Tried thinking about tomorrow’s script.
Instead…
The interview replayed in his mind.
“Keng, congratulations…”
“Keng, you’re doing so well…”
“Keng, what’s the secret to your success?”
Then…
His own voice.
“I think—”
“We’ll come back to you.”
They never had.
His chest finally caved beneath everything he’d been holding together.
A tear landed silently on the pillow.
Then another.
His shoulders trembled once.
Twice.
He quickly pressed both hands over his mouth.
Trying—
Desperately trying—
Not to make a sound.
Because Keng deserved to sleep.
He deserved one peaceful night.
Namping could cry quietly.
He’d gotten very good…
At doing things quietly.
The first sob never escaped.
It dissolved against his palms.
A broken breath.
A shaky inhale.
Another tear soaked into the pillow beneath his cheek.
Namping squeezed his eyes shut even harder.
No.
No, no, no.
Not now.
He’d made it all the way home.
He’d smiled through the interview.
Smiled through rehearsals.
Smiled through the livestream.
Smiled through dinner.
He could survive this too.
Just…
Be quiet.
Keng needed to sleep.
Tomorrow’s call time was five-thirty.
He had an emotional scene to film.
He needed his rest.
Namping could fall apart later.
When nobody was looking.
Like always.
He buried his face deeper into the pillow.
The fabric muffled another trembling breath.
His shoulders shook harder this time.
The effort of trying not to cry somehow hurt more than crying itself.
His chest burned.
His throat ached.
It felt impossible to breathe.
Still…
He kept forcing every sound back down.
“I’m okay…”
He whispered into the pillow.
It sounded so hollow that even he didn’t believe it.
“I’m okay…”
Another tear.
“I’m just tired…”
The sentence he’d repeated for weeks.
Months, maybe.
It had become automatic.
The answer he gave everyone.
Managers.
Directors.
Stylists.
Friends.
Even Keng.
Especially Keng.
Because if he admitted he wasn’t okay…
Then it would become real.
Behind him…
The bed shifted.
Namping froze.
Please…
Please stay asleep.
The mattress dipped slightly.
A sleepy sigh.
Then stillness again.
Relief flooded through him.
He waited another minute before letting himself breathe.
Maybe…
Maybe Keng hadn’t woken up.
Maybe—
A warm hand reached across the mattress.
Searching.
It landed on empty sheets.
Keng frowned in his sleep.
Half-awake now.
His arm moved again.
Searching the familiar space beside him.
Finding…
Nothing.
His eyebrows knitted together.
Even before he opened his eyes.
“Namping…?”
His voice was rough with sleep.
Barely above a whisper.
Namping squeezed his eyes shut.
He couldn’t answer.
Not like this.
Not with his voice already breaking apart.
Silence.
Keng blinked awake.
The room was almost completely dark.
Only the digital clock cast a faint blue glow across the bedroom.
2.43am.
He turned.
Namping was facing the opposite direction.
Curled tightly into himself.
Much smaller than usual.
“…Baby?”
Still nothing.
Keng slowly pushed himself upright.
Sleep fogged his thoughts.
Maybe Namping couldn’t sleep.
Maybe he felt sick.
Maybe—
Then he saw it.
The blanket.
Moving.
Tiny.
Rhythmic tremors.
Almost invisible.
If he hadn’t spent years memorizing every little thing about the man beside him…
He would’ve missed it.
His heart lurched.
“…Namping.”
No response.
Keng moved closer.
Carefully.
Slowly.
As if approaching a frightened animal that might bolt if startled.
His hand hovered over Namping’s shoulder.
He hesitated.
Something in his chest whispered…
Be gentle.
So he was.
His fingertips barely brushed the fabric of Namping’s shirt.
The trembling beneath it stopped instantly.
Not because it was over.
Because Namping was trying to hide it.
Keng felt his stomach drop.
“…Hey.”
Nothing.
“I’m here.”
Silence.
Another shaky breath.
So quiet it almost wasn’t a sound at all.
Keng swallowed hard.
“Namping…”
His voice softened even further.
“…Look at me, baby.”
A tiny shake of the head.
No.
“I can’t.”
The words came out strangled.
Barely audible.
“I know.”
Keng didn’t move any closer.
Didn’t force him to turn around.
Didn’t ask why.
He simply rested his hand between Namping’s shoulder blades.
Warm.
Steady.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The room fell silent again.
Only the sound of rain tapping softly against the bedroom window remained.
After almost a full minute…
Namping whispered,
“…I’m sorry.”
Keng’s heart cracked.
The first thing he says…
…is an apology.
“For what?”
“I woke you.”
“Oh, sweetheart…”
Keng let out the smallest, saddest laugh.
“You think that’s what I’m worried about?”
“I’m sorry.”
Another apology.
Quieter this time.
“I didn’t want…”
His breathing hitched.
“…I didn’t want you to see.”
Keng closed his eyes.
He had spent weeks asking if Namping was okay.
Weeks accepting the answer.
Weeks believing “I’m tired.”
Now he realized…
Namping hadn’t been protecting himself.
He’d been protecting everyone else.
Even now.
Even while crying.
He was apologizing.
“I’m going to ask you something.”
Keng spoke gently.
“You don’t have to answer if you can’t.”
A pause.
“…Okay.”
“Can I hold you?”
Silence.
Namping’s shoulders trembled again.
Another tear disappeared into the pillow.
Then…
The smallest nod.
Keng didn’t hesitate.
He slid closer until there wasn’t even an inch between them.
Then…
Very carefully…
He wrapped one arm around Namping’s waist from behind.
Not tightly.
Not enough to trap him.
Just enough to say—
I’m here.
The moment that arm settled around him…
Namping broke.
The sob that escaped him was so raw that it made Keng’s own eyes sting instantly.
Months.
He’d been holding this in for months.
Namping grabbed blindly at Keng’s sleeve.
Clutching it with both hands.
Like he was afraid Keng might disappear if he let go.
“I’m sorry…”
His words dissolved into another sob.
“I’m so sorry…”
Keng immediately shook his head.
“No.”
He pressed a kiss into the back of Namping’s hair.
“No more apologizing.”
“I’m making everything difficult—”
“No.”
“I’m crying over nothing—”
“No.”
“I shouldn’t—”
“Namping.”
For the first time that night…
Keng interrupted him.
Not sharply.
But firmly.
Enough to stop the spiral.
“No.”
The room became quiet again.
Keng tightened his embrace just slightly.
“You don’t get to decide that your feelings are ‘nothing.’”
Namping cried harder.
Because nobody had ever said that to him before.
Not like this.
Not when he needed to hear it most.
Keng rested his forehead gently against the back of Namping’s head.
His own voice had become thick with emotion.
“You’ve been carrying something so heavy…”
“…that it’s making you apologize for breaking beneath it.”
Another kiss.
Slow.
Gentle.
“So don’t tell me it’s nothing.”
Namping’s fingers tightened around his sleeve.
“I…”
He couldn’t get the words out.
“I…”
Another shaky breath.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Keng closed his eyes.
There it was.
The sentence he’d been dreading without even knowing it.
Not…
“I’m exhausted.”
Not…
“I’m overwhelmed.”
Not even…
“I’m sad.”
Instead…
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
As if Namping genuinely believed…
The problem was himself.
Keng’s chest ached so fiercely it almost hurt to breathe.
He held him a little closer.
Not enough to smother him.
Just enough for Namping to feel that he wasn’t alone anymore.
“You don’t have to figure it out tonight.”
His voice was barely louder than the rain outside.
“You don’t have to explain everything perfectly.”
He brushed trembling fingers through Namping’s hair.
“You don’t have to make it make sense for me to stay.”
At those words…
Namping finally turned.
Slowly.
Almost hesitantly.
His face was wet with tears.
His eyelashes clung together.
His eyes were swollen and red.
He looked exhausted.
Not just physically.
Like someone who hadn’t rested in a very long time.
The moment Keng saw his face…
His own composure almost shattered.
Because this wasn’t the Namping the world knew.
This wasn’t the actor on magazine covers.
Or the man who smiled through fan meetings.
This was simply…
His Namping.
Completely worn down.
And trying so hard to pretend he wasn’t.
Keng reached up.
His thumb gently brushed away a tear before it could fall.
“You don’t have to smile anymore.”
His voice cracked.
“…Not here.”
The words hit something deep inside Namping.
His face crumpled.
He leaned forward without thinking.
Straight into Keng’s chest.
Keng caught him immediately.
Both arms wrapped around him this time.
Holding him firmly.
Safely.
Like he intended to keep every broken piece together until Namping could breathe again.
And for the first time in weeks…
Namping stopped trying to cry quietly.
He simply cried.
Into the safest place he knew.
Namping couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this.
Not polite tears.
Not watery eyes that he could blink away before someone noticed.
This was different.
His whole body shook.
Every breath caught painfully in his chest before breaking into another sob.
He buried his face deeper into Keng’s shirt.
Within minutes, the cotton was damp with tears.
Keng didn’t care.
He only held him tighter.
One hand cradled the back of Namping’s head, fingers disappearing into his soft hair.
The other rubbed slow, patient circles over his back.
Not rushed.
Not rhythmic enough to become mechanical.
Just… there.
Grounding him.
Reminding him with every gentle stroke:
You’re not alone.
“You don’t have to stop.”
Keng whispered into his hair.
“I know you’re trying.”
“You don’t have to.”
Another sob escaped Namping.
“I…”
His voice cracked so badly he barely recognized it.
“I’m so tired…”
Keng closed his eyes.
Those three words.
The same ones Namping had been saying for weeks.
Only now…
They didn’t mean, I need more sleep.
They meant…
I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending.
“I know, baby.”
“No…”
Namping shook his head weakly against Keng’s chest.
“You don’t.”
His fingers tightened in Keng’s shirt until his knuckles turned white.
“I don’t think…”
A shaky inhale.
“I don’t think anyone does.”
Keng’s heart sank.
Not because he disagreed.
Because he realized Namping believed it.
He believed he had been suffering alone.
For a long time…
Keng didn’t speak.
He knew better.
This wasn’t the moment to fill every silence.
Silence could be comforting too.
So he simply held him.
Listening.
Waiting.
Until Namping was ready.
The rain outside continued tapping gently against the bedroom window.
Somewhere in the distance, a car drove past.
The city carried on.
Completely unaware that, in one apartment, someone had finally run out of strength.
Eventually…
Namping spoke again.
“I wake up…”
His voice was barely a whisper.
“…already tired.”
Keng stayed quiet.
“I tell myself…”
“…Just get through today.”
Another pause.
“Then tomorrow comes…”
“…and I tell myself the same thing.”
His breathing trembled.
“I don’t even know what I’m looking forward to anymore.”
Keng felt tears sting his own eyes.
Namping laughed weakly.
It was a horrible sound.
Empty.
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“I used to get excited when my manager called.”
He smiled sadly.
“I’d think…”
“‘Maybe I got another project.’”
“‘Maybe people still want me.’”
Another tear slid down his cheek.
“Now…”
“My phone rings…”
“…and my chest gets tight.”
“I just wonder…”
“‘How much more?’”
Keng swallowed hard.
“I keep thinking…”
Namping continued quietly.
“If I can just finish this schedule…”
“I’ll be okay.”
“But then another one comes.”
“And another.”
“And another.”
He closed his eyes.
“I don’t remember…”
“…what it feels like…”
“…to not be needed by somebody.”
Stylists.
Directors.
Producers.
Sponsors.
Managers.
Fans.
Everybody wanted something.
Another take.
Another smile.
Another appearance.
Another photo.
Another autograph.
Another interview.
Another version of Namping.
But somewhere…
The real Namping had quietly disappeared beneath all of it.
“I think…”
He hesitated.
Then whispered,
“I’ve forgotten how to be me.”
Those words stole the air from the room.
Keng’s hand stopped moving for just a second.
Not because he didn’t know what to do.
Because his heart had shattered.
Very carefully…
He tipped Namping’s chin upward.
“Look at me.”
Namping resisted for a moment.
Embarrassed.
Ashamed.
Eventually…
He did.
His eyes were swollen.
Red.
Exhausted.
Keng looked at him for a long time.
As though trying to memorize every line of his face.
Every tear.
Every emotion Namping had hidden from the world.
Then…
He smiled.
Small.
Tender.
Heartbreakingly soft.
“There you are.”
Namping frowned.
“…What?”
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Confusion flickered across Namping’s face.
Keng brushed another tear away with his thumb.
“I’ve missed you.”
Namping’s brows knitted together.
“But…”
“I’m here.”
Keng slowly shook his head.
“No.”
His voice was gentle.
“The last few weeks…”
“I’ve been having dinner with you.”
“I’ve been sleeping beside you.”
“I’ve been kissing you goodbye every morning.”
Another slow stroke through Namping’s hair.
“But…”
He smiled sadly.
“I haven’t really had you.”
Namping’s lip trembled.
“I’ve had the version that’s trying to remember tomorrow’s script.”
“The version worrying about call times.”
“The version answering emails while eating.”
“The version smiling because somebody asked him to.”
He leaned forward until their foreheads rested together.
“But my Namping…”
His voice cracked.
“I think he’s been so busy taking care of everybody else…”
“…that nobody’s been taking care of him.”
A sob escaped Namping before he could stop it.
Keng immediately wrapped both arms around him again.
Holding him close.
Holding him securely.
Like he was afraid Namping might slip away if he loosened his grip.
“You don’t have to carry everyone.”
Keng whispered.
“You don’t have to make everyone’s day easier.”
“You don’t have to smile because the camera is on.”
“You don’t have to answer every message immediately.”
“You don’t have to be perfect.”
His lips brushed gently against Namping’s temple.
“And you definitely…”
His voice softened even further.
“…don’t have to hide from me.”
At that…
Namping completely fell apart again.
Not because Keng had solved anything.
But because…
Someone had finally seen him.
Really seen him.
Not the actor.
Not the celebrity.
Not the smiling face on billboards.
Just…
Him.
And somehow…
That hurt almost as much as it healed.
“I was scared.”
The confession came out between sobs.
“So scared.”
Keng rubbed his back.
“Of what?”
Namping stared down at his trembling hands.
“…That if I couldn’t keep up…”
“…people would stop choosing me.”
Silence.
“That someone younger…”
“…better…”
“…more talented…”
“…would take my place.”
His voice became smaller with every word.
“I keep thinking…”
“If I’m not enough…”
“…I’ll disappear.”
Keng stared at him.
Utterly speechless.
Because this beautiful, hardworking, endlessly kind man…
Genuinely believed he could disappear.
Slowly…
Keng reached for both of Namping’s hands.
He laced their fingers together.
Firmly.
“You know what I saw today?”
Namping looked away.
“The interview.”
Namping’s shoulders tensed.
“I saw you thanking every single crew member before you left.”
“I saw you carrying the gift bags so the assistants wouldn’t have to.”
“I saw you bow to people who weren’t even looking.”
Another tear rolled down Namping’s cheek.
“I saw you remember everyone’s names.”
“I saw you smile at the intern who looked too nervous to say hello.”
Keng squeezed his hands.
“The world sees your work.”
“I get to see your heart.”
Namping’s tears fell faster.
“And do you know something?”
Keng smiled through his own watery eyes.
“I’ve never once fallen in love with your success.”
“I fell in love with…”
He laughed quietly.
“…the idiot who steals fries off my plate.”
That earned the tiniest huff of laughter.
“I fell in love with the man who cries over stray cats.”
Another watery sniffle.
“The one who dances terribly in the kitchen.”
“I do not dance terribly.”
“You absolutely do.”
A pause.
Then…
The smallest smile.
Tiny.
Fragile.
But unmistakably real.
Keng felt something loosen inside his chest.
There you are.
He hadn’t lost him.
He was still here.
Just buried beneath weeks…
Months…
Of exhaustion.
Keng reached up and kissed the corner of Namping’s eye.
Then his forehead.
Then the tip of his nose.
Slowly.
Tenderly.
Until Namping’s breathing finally began to steady.
“There he is.”
Keng whispered again.
“My baby.”
“My Namping.”
“The cameras don’t get him.”
“The interviews don’t get him.”
“The world doesn’t get him.”
He rested his forehead against Namping’s.
“I do.”
Namping closed his eyes.
For the first time in weeks…
The weight on his chest felt…
Just a little lighter.
Not because it was gone.
But because he wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.
The bedroom fell quiet again.
Not the uncomfortable kind.
Not the silence of things left unsaid.
This one felt softer.
Like the room itself was finally allowing Namping to breathe.
He stayed tucked against Keng’s chest, eyes closed, listening to the steady rhythm beneath his ear.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Keng’s heartbeat.
It had always calmed him.
After difficult scenes.
After exhausting fan events.
After award shows.
Whenever the world became too loud…
This was where he came.
Home.
Only tonight did he realize…
He had spent weeks coming home physically.
Not emotionally.
“I’m sorry.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Keng sighed.
Not annoyed.
Just…
Tired of hearing the man he loved apologize for existing.
“What did we say about apologizing?”
Namping gave him a sheepish look.
“…I’m trying.”
“I know.”
“You make it really hard.”
Keng couldn’t help smiling.
“I know.”
His thumb brushed gently beneath Namping’s eye, wiping away another tear before it fell.
“But every time you say sorry tonight…”
He spoke quietly.
“…it sounds like you’re apologizing for needing me.”
Namping immediately shook his head.
“No.”
“Then don’t.”
“I just…”
His voice trembled again.
“I don’t want to become…”
He searched for the word.
“…Heavy.”
Keng frowned.
“Heavy?”
“A burden.”
The word landed between them with a dull ache.
“You already work so hard.”
“You have your own schedules.”
“Your own pressure.”
“I don’t want to come home and…”
His breathing caught.
“…Make you carry me too.”
For a long moment…
Keng simply stared at him.
Then he reached up and cupped Namping’s face with both hands.
“So that’s what you’ve been thinking.”
Namping couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I thought…”
He swallowed.
“If I could just keep smiling…”
“…then at least home could stay peaceful.”
Keng’s expression crumpled.
“Oh, sweetheart…”
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
“You’ve got it backwards.”
He leaned forward until their foreheads touched again.
“Do you know what home is to me?”
Namping shook his head.
“It’s the only place where you don’t have to smile.”
Another tear slipped free.
Keng caught it with his thumb.
“The world gets your professionalism.”
“Your managers get your punctuality.”
“Your directors get your concentration.”
“Your fans get your brightest smile.”
He smiled sadly.
“I don’t need any of those.”
His hand slid gently into Namping’s hair.
“I just need you.”
Namping’s shoulders started trembling again.
“I wasn’t trying to shut you out.”
“I know.”
“I just…”
“I know.”
“I didn’t know how to explain it.”
“I know.”
Every answer was the same.
Not impatient.
Not dismissive.
Simply…
Understanding.
And somehow…
That made Namping cry even harder.
“I thought…”
He whispered through uneven breaths.
“…if I said it out loud…”
“…it would become real.”
Keng nodded.
“I know.”
“I thought if I admitted I wasn’t okay…”
“…I’d be admitting I wasn’t strong enough.”
Keng gently tilted his chin upward.
“Can I tell you what I think?”
A tiny nod.
“I think…”
He smiled softly.
“…you’ve been strong for so long…”
“…that you’ve forgotten you’re allowed not to be.”
Namping closed his eyes.
“…I don’t feel strong.”
“I know.”
“I feel…”
He laughed bitterly.
“So stupid.”
Keng’s brows knitted together.
“Why?”
“Because everyone keeps telling me how lucky I am.”
“You are.”
“I know.”
“I have work.”
“I have people who support me.”
“I have fans.”
Another pause.
“…I have you.”
Keng squeezed his hand.
“So why…”
Namping’s voice cracked.
“…do I still feel like this?”
There it was.
The question he’d been terrified to ask.
Not Keng.
Himself.
Why wasn’t all of it enough?
Keng didn’t answer immediately.
Instead…
He reached over to the bedside table.
Picked up the half-finished bottle of water.
Unscrewed the cap.
“Drink first.”
Namping blinked.
“…Now?”
“Mhm.”
“I’ve been crying my eyes out and you’re making me drink water?”
“You’ve been crying your eyes out.”
Keng smiled gently.
“So yes.”
Despite everything…
A tiny laugh escaped Namping.
He accepted the bottle.
His hands were still shaking slightly.
Keng waited until he’d taken a few sips before speaking again.
“You know…”
He tucked the blanket more securely around Namping’s shoulders.
“…I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”
“About what?”
“You.”
Namping gave him a watery smile.
“That’s dangerous.”
“It is.”
Keng chuckled quietly.
“I kept wondering…”
“…why I missed you…”
“…even though you were sleeping beside me every night.”
Namping looked at him.
Confused.
“I couldn’t figure it out.”
“I thought maybe I was just being clingy.”
He laughed softly to himself.
“But that wasn’t it.”
His smile slowly disappeared.
“I’ve been losing you.”
The words stole the air from the room.
Namping froze.
“What?”
“I’ve been losing little pieces of you.”
Keng looked down at their intertwined fingers.
“So slowly…”
“…that neither of us noticed.”
His thumb gently traced circles across the back of Namping’s hand.
“You stopped stealing food.”
“You stopped singing in the shower.”
“You stopped sending me voice notes from set.”
“You stopped asking me to stay up and watch terrible reality shows.”
A sad smile tugged at his lips.
“You stopped arguing with me about whose turn it was to do the laundry.”
Another pause.
“I even noticed…”
His voice grew quieter.
“…you stopped falling asleep before me.”
Namping’s breath caught.
Because it was true.
He had.
Almost every night recently…
He waited until Keng was asleep.
Only then did he allow himself to stop pretending everything was okay.
Keng looked up.
His eyes were shining now.
“I thought work had just made you busy.”
He swallowed.
“I didn’t realize…”
“…it was taking pieces of you with it.”
A tear escaped Keng’s eye.
He laughed quietly, embarrassed.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.”
Namping’s heart broke.
Without thinking…
He reached up and wiped the tear away.
“Hey…”
His voice was hoarse.
“Don’t.”
Keng smiled through wet eyes.
“I can’t help it.”
“Why are you crying?”
The question came out almost instinctively.
Keng looked at him for a long moment.
Then answered with complete honesty.
“Because…”
His voice cracked.
“…I keep imagining how lonely you’ve been.”
Not—
How sad you are.
Not—
How much you’ve cried.
But—
How long you’ve been carrying this by yourself.
Namping’s own tears started falling again.
“I was right beside you…”
Keng whispered.
“…and you still felt like you had to survive this alone.”
He shook his head.
“I hate that.”
“So much.”
Namping reached for him this time.
Not because he needed to be held.
Because suddenly…
He wanted to hold Keng too.
Their arms wrapped around each other at the same time.
No hesitation.
No carefulness.
Just…
Home.
“I love you.”
Namping whispered into Keng’s shoulder.
“So much.”
“I know.”
“I don’t say it enough.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.”
He pulled back just enough to look at him.
Eyes swollen.
Nose pink.
Hair completely messy.
“I don’t think…”
He sniffled.
“…I would’ve made it through these last few weeks…”
“…without knowing I got to come home to you.”
Keng smiled.
Then he leaned forward.
Pressed one long, lingering kiss against Namping’s forehead.
“So listen to me.”
His voice shifted.
Still gentle.
But steadier.
Warmer.
The kind of voice that always made Namping feel safe.
“Daddy mode,” Namping secretly called it.
The voice Keng used whenever he wanted to make the world feel smaller.
Manageable.
“I need you to hear me.”
Namping nodded.
“And I need you to believe me.”
“I’ll try.”
“No.”
Keng gently cupped his cheek.
“I don’t want you to try.”
“I want you to let me believe enough for the both of us tonight.”
Namping felt fresh tears sting his eyes.
Because…
For the first time since this all began…
He didn’t feel like he had to convince someone he was okay.
He could simply…
Let himself be loved.
Namping looked at him for a long time.
The room was still dim, the only light coming from the digital clock and the faint glow filtering through the curtains.
Everything else had faded into the background.
The rain.
The city.
Tomorrow.
It was just the two of them.
“…How?” Namping asked quietly.
Keng frowned.
“How what, baby?”
“How do I let you believe enough for the both of us?”
His voice was so small it barely sounded like him.
“I don’t even know how to stop.”
He laughed once.
It wasn’t really a laugh.
“Every morning I wake up and my brain is already making lists.”
“What time I need to leave.”
“What script I haven’t memorized.”
“Which sponsor I still need to reply to.”
“What interview I have.”
“What I should post.”
“What I should say.”
“What I should wear.”
He pressed trembling fingers against his forehead.
“It never stops.”
“I don’t know how to switch it off.”
“I don’t…”
His voice cracked.
“…remember how.”
Keng listened.
He didn’t interrupt.
He didn’t rush to reassure him.
He simply let Namping empty his heart.
Because for weeks…
Maybe months…
There had been no room for it.
“I keep thinking…”
Namping whispered.
“If I work just a little harder…”
“…people won’t replace me.”
“If I answer every message…”
“…they’ll think I’m easy to work with.”
“If I smile enough…”
“…people won’t think I’m difficult.”
“If I never complain…”
“…everyone will want to hire me again.”
Another tear slipped free.
“So I keep saying yes.”
“Yes to one more shoot.”
“Yes to another fitting.”
“Yes to another interview.”
“Yes to another event.”
He laughed bitterly.
“I don’t even know who I’m trying to convince anymore.”
Keng’s heart ached.
Because none of those thoughts sounded arrogant.
They sounded afraid.
Terribly, terribly afraid.
“…Baby.”
Keng reached up and gently took both of Namping’s hands away from his face.
“Look at me.”
Namping did.
Slowly.
His eyes were exhausted.
As though he’d been carrying the weight of an entire world on shoulders that were never meant to hold it.
“You know what I heard?”
Keng asked softly.
Namping blinked.
“Hm?”
“I didn’t hear someone who isn’t good enough.”
Another gentle squeeze of his hands.
“I heard someone who’s terrified that one day…”
“…people will stop choosing him.”
Namping’s eyes immediately filled again.
Because…
That was exactly it.
Exactly.
“I don’t want to disappear.”
His voice broke.
“I know.”
“I don’t want people to forget me.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to wake up one day and realize…”
“…there’s no work anymore.”
“…that someone else is standing where I used to stand.”
His breathing became uneven again.
“I love acting.”
“So much.”
“I really do.”
“I just…”
Another sob escaped.
“I’m scared.”
Those two words shattered whatever composure Keng had left.
He moved without thinking.
Closing the tiny space between them.
Both arms wrapped around Namping again.
This time…
He pulled him onto his lap.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Namping let himself be moved.
Too exhausted to protest.
Too safe to pretend.
He folded into Keng’s embrace instinctively.
His face tucked into the crook of Keng’s neck.
Keng held him there.
One hand supporting his back.
The other cradling the back of his head.
Rocking him ever so slightly.
The way someone soothes a frightened child.
Not because Namping was childish.
Because sometimes…
Love looked after the oldest parts of us.
The parts that only wanted someone to say,
“You’re safe now.”
“You listen to me.”
Keng’s voice was low.
Steady.
Warm.
The voice that always settled every storm inside Namping.
“I don’t know what the future looks like.”
“I can’t promise every project will succeed.”
“I can’t promise you’ll never feel insecure again.”
“I can’t promise this industry will always be kind.”
He gently kissed Namping’s hair.
“But I can promise you something else.”
He waited until Namping looked up.
Even with swollen eyes.
Even with tears clinging to his lashes.
He was still the most beautiful person Keng had ever seen.
“I will never let you carry all of this by yourself again.”
Namping’s lips trembled.
“You don’t have to protect me from your bad days.”
“You don’t have to edit your feelings before you bring them home.”
“You don’t have to smile first.”
“You don’t have to make yourself easier to love.”
Every sentence landed gently.
Not as a lecture.
As permission.
Keng brushed his thumb beneath Namping’s eye.
“Can I tell you something?”
Namping nodded.
“I think…”
He smiled softly.
“…you’re so used to people needing things from you…”
“…that you’ve forgotten what it’s feels like…”
“…to let someone take care of you.”
Namping lowered his eyes.
Because it was true.
He didn’t know how anymore.
He knew how to comfort.
How to reassure.
How to stay strong.
How to smile.
How to work.
How to give.
Giving had become second nature.
Receiving…
Felt almost impossible.
“You know what I wanted today?”
Keng asked.
“When?”
“After the interview.”
Namping stiffened slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
Keng immediately shook his head.
“No.”
“I’m not talking about the interview itself.”
He smiled.
“When we got into the van…”
“…all I wanted…”
“…was for you to lean your head on my shoulder.”
Namping blinked.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I would’ve sat there.”
“Held your hand.”
“Played with your hair.”
“Taken you home.”
“Ordered your favourite food.”
“Watched terrible television.”
He laughed quietly.
“I would’ve been perfectly happy.”
His smile slowly faded.
“But instead…”
“You looked so far away.”
“I kept thinking…”
“…how do I reach him?”
Namping couldn’t stop crying.
Not because Keng had said anything extraordinary.
Because he hadn’t.
He’d wanted something so simple.
Something Namping had been too overwhelmed to give.
“I’m sorry.”
The words slipped out again.
Keng sighed dramatically.
“Oh, come here.”
“I am here.”
“No.”
He smiled through watery eyes.
“Closer.”
“I’m literally sitting on you.”
“You could still be closer.”
Despite everything…
A tiny, breathless laugh escaped Namping.
“There he is.”
Keng whispered immediately.
“My laugh.”
He leaned down.
Pressed another kiss against Namping’s forehead.
Then another.
Then another.
Until Namping giggled weakly.
“Keng…”
“What?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying to make you smile.”
“It’s working.”
“I know.”
They stayed like that for a long time.
No more talking.
Just…
Holding each other.
Keng occasionally rubbing circles into Namping’s back.
Namping absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of Keng’s pajama shirt.
Neither of them noticed the rain had stopped.
The apartment was completely silent now.
Peaceful.
Finally.
After what felt like forever…
Keng quietly spoke again.
“…Baby?”
“Hm?”
“I’m going to ask you for something.”
“What?”
His voice became impossibly gentle.
“Tomorrow…”
“No.”
Namping frowned.
“What?”
“No pretending.”
“No telling everyone you’re fine if you’re not.”
“No hiding from me.”
He rested his forehead against Namping’s.
“And no carrying the whole world by yourself.”
Namping looked at him.
“…That’s more than one thing.”
Keng smiled.
“I know.”
“But I’m your boyfriend.”
“I get bonus requests.”
For the first time that night…
Namping smiled without forcing it.
It was tired.
His eyes were still swollen.
His cheeks were stained with tears.
But it was real.
And to Keng…
It was the most beautiful smile he’d seen in weeks.
Neither of them noticed when the clock turned to 4.08am.
Normally, they would already be getting ready.
The alarm would ring in less than an hour.
Hair.
Makeup.
Wardrobe.
Another day.
Another schedule.
Instead…
They were still sitting in bed.
Namping curled against Keng’s chest, wrapped so completely in his arms that there wasn’t even the smallest space between them.
Every now and then, another sniffle escaped him.
Keng answered each one the same way.
A kiss against his hair.
A slow rub across his back.
A gentle squeeze around his waist.
As if saying,
I’m still here.
“I’m sorry your shirt’s all wet.”
Namping mumbled after a while.
He looked down at the dark patches where his tears had soaked through the cotton.
Keng looked too.
Then shrugged.
“It’ll wash.”
“I’ve been crying on you for…”
He glanced at the clock.
“…an hour?”
“Closer to two.”
Namping let out the tiniest groan.
“Oh my God.”
“I’m so embarrassing.”
Keng looked at him as though he’d just said something outrageous.
“Embarrassing?”
“I’ve just been…”
He gestured vaguely toward himself.
“…this.”
Keng reached out and caught his wandering hand.
“I need you to stop talking about someone I love like that.”
Namping blinked.
“What?”
“When you call yourself embarrassing…”
His thumb stroked over Namping’s knuckles.
“…you’re talking about my favourite person.”
Silence.
“So be nice.”
The words were spoken so simply that they stole all of Namping’s defenses.
His eyes filled again.
“…You make everything sound so easy.”
Keng smiled sadly.
“No.”
“I just think you’ve been speaking to yourself in a way I’d never let anyone else speak to you.”
Namping stared at him.
“…I have, haven’t I?”
“You have.”
“If someone else told you…”
Keng continued gently,
“…that you were a burden…”
“…you’d defend yourself.”
“If someone else said you weren’t good enough…”
“…I’d probably have to hold you back from arguing with them.”
That earned the faintest smile.
“But when the voice saying those things…”
He tapped lightly over Namping’s chest.
“…comes from in here…”
“You believe it.”
Namping lowered his eyes.
“I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“I know.”
Keng leaned forward and kissed the center of his forehead.
“So until you learn…”
“…I’ll be louder.”
The words settled somewhere deep inside Namping.
I’ll be louder.
Not louder with his voice.
Louder than the doubts.
Louder than the insecurity.
Louder than the part of Namping that had quietly started believing he only deserved love when he was succeeding.
A fresh wave of tears threatened to fall.
This time…
Keng caught them before they did.
“Hey.”
He smiled.
“No more crying because you’re calling yourself names.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you are.”
Keng tucked a loose strand of hair behind Namping’s ear.
“You don’t have to get better tonight.”
“You don’t have to wake up tomorrow and suddenly feel confident.”
“You don’t have to have everything figured out.”
His hand slid to the back of Namping’s neck.
Massaging gently where it always became stiff after long filming days.
“You’ve been surviving for weeks.”
His voice became even softer.
“So tonight…”
He rested his forehead against Namping’s.
“…you don’t survive.”
“You rest.”
Namping closed his eyes.
“I don’t know if I can sleep.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’ll just keep thinking.”
“Probably.”
“I’ll probably cry again.”
“Probably.”
A tiny huff escaped him.
“You make crying sound like it’s normal.”
Keng looked genuinely confused.
“It is.”
“No…”
“I mean…”
He laughed weakly.
“I’ve cried more tonight than I have in years.”
Keng’s expression softened.
“Maybe that’s because you’ve needed to.”
Another silence settled over them.
Comfortable.
Gentle.
Then…
“So…”
Keng spoke quietly.
“What do we do about tomorrow?”
Namping opened his eyes.
“My schedule?”
“Mhm.”
“I have a commercial at seven.”
“Mm.”
“Script reading at noon.”
“Mhm.”
“Sponsor livestream after that.”
Keng nodded slowly.
Then asked the question Namping wasn’t expecting.
“Do you actually have to?”
Namping frowned.
“What?”
“All of it.”
“It’s my job.”
“I know.”
“But do you have to do all of it tomorrow?”
“I…”
He stopped.
Because…
He genuinely didn’t know.
He had stopped asking.
Somewhere along the way…
Every schedule had become something to endure rather than something to choose.
“I don’t know.”
He admitted quietly.
Keng nodded.
“Okay.”
He reached for his own phone on the bedside table.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling our manager when the sun comes up.”
Namping’s eyes widened.
“Keng.”
“What?”
“You can’t.”
“I absolutely can.”
“No, they’ll think I’m being difficult.”
Keng turned to look at him.
There wasn’t a trace of anger in his face.
Only unwavering certainty.
“If they think asking for one day to breathe makes you difficult…”
He gently cupped Namping’s cheek.
“…then they’re asking too much.”
Namping immediately shook his head.
“No…”
“You don’t understand.”
“I have contracts.”
“I have commitments.”
“I have people relying on me.”
“I know.”
“I can’t just cancel.”
“I’m not talking about disappearing for a month.”
Keng smiled softly.
“I’m talking about one day.”
“One.”
Namping’s breathing became uneven again.
“But what if—”
“No.”
Keng interrupted gently.
“Listen to me.”
He took both of Namping’s hands.
Held them firmly.
Steadily.
“You have spent weeks saying…”
“‘One more interview.’”
“‘One more shoot.’”
“‘One more smile.’”
“‘One more day.’”
His eyes never left Namping’s.
“So tonight…”
He shook his head.
“…I’m saying something different.”
He leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
“No more tonight.”
Namping’s breath caught.
“No more pretending.”
A kiss against his forehead.
“No more performing.”
A kiss against the corner of his eye.
“No more convincing me you’re okay when you’re not.”
A kiss against his temple.
“And absolutely…”
He wrapped both arms around Namping again, pulling him impossibly close.
“…no more carrying this alone.”
Namping broke into tears again.
Not the desperate, gasping sobs from earlier.
These were quieter.
Relieved.
As though every word Keng spoke loosened another knot inside his chest.
He clung to Keng with all the strength he had left.
“…Okay.”
His voice was barely audible.
Keng smiled.
“What was that?”
“…Okay.”
“You’ll let me help?”
A long pause.
Then…
For the first time…
Without hesitation.
Without adding I’m sorry.
Without saying I’ll be fine.
Without trying to make himself smaller.
Namping nodded.
“…Please.”
Keng’s eyes immediately filled with tears.
He kissed the top of Namping’s head.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Holding him as though the entire world could wait until morning.
Because for one night…
The cameras had stopped rolling.
And the only person Namping needed to be…
Was the man safely asleep—
Or eventually asleep—
In the arms of the person who loved him most.