Chapter 12: Sparks and Screens
The studio was alive with energy, cameras rolling and fans watching a livestream of the behind-the-scenes preparations. Lin Yue tried to focus on his lines and poses, but every glance at Mei Lin made him slightly flustered.
"Lin Yue, you have to lean a little more this way," Mei Lin said, stepping closer than necessary. Her fingers brushed his arm as she adjusted his posture. "See? Perfect! You're a natural in front of the camera."
Lin Yue's cheeks burned. Professional… stay professional. "Th-thank you," he stammered, avoiding her gaze.
Fans were already noticing the subtle tension. Comments streamed in live:
"Mei Lin is too close! 😳"
"Lin Yue looks so flustered, and Krit's just standing there… I ship it!! #KritYueShip"
"Protective bodyguard vibes 😍"
Lin Yue glanced at the background where Krit stood, calm and composed, tablet in hand. His golden eyes scanned the room, noting every movement. Krit didn't interfere, not yet, but his subtle awareness — the way he shifted slightly closer when Mei Lin leaned too near — did not go unnoticed.
The rival's latest online post appeared mid-stream, sarcastically hinting that Lin Yue was being distracted by his "supportive coworkers" and questioning his professionalism. Lin Yue groaned inwardly, wishing for a hole to hide in.
Krit's gaze flicked briefly toward Lin Yue, subtle but sharp. The tiniest micro-expression of acknowledgment passed over his face, a silent reassurance that he was there, watching, aware. Lin Yue felt his pulse quicken — that spark, tiny but undeniable, ignited in his chest once again.
Mei Lin continued her teasing, unaware of the quiet undercurrent between the two men. "You're so serious all the time, Lin Yue! You should smile more. Fans love seeing you happy," she said brightly, nudging him playfully.
Lin Yue tried to comply, forcing a small smile, but it felt awkward. Krit, noticing the discomfort, subtly adjusted his stance, standing a fraction closer, eyes sweeping the studio to ensure nothing — no rival interference, no unexpected mishaps — threatened him.
The livestream continued, fans commenting wildly about every subtle movement and glance. Lin Yue could feel the buzz around him, their excitement mingling with his own rising awareness of Krit's presence. Every slight shift, every glance, every quiet gesture fed the slow-burn tension that he couldn't ignore.
By the end of the day, Lin Yue was exhausted — mentally, physically, and emotionally. Mei Lin waved cheerfully, promising to return for the next shoot, still teasing him about his "adorable reactions." Lin Yue gave a small, flustered nod.
Krit walked beside him silently, vigilant as always. Lin Yue stole a glance at him and realized, once again, that Krit's presence mattered more than he could admit. That spark, subtle, restrained, and entirely unspoken, had grown steadily — and he knew it would continue to grow, quietly, invisibly, in the spaces between rehearsals, fan buzz, and the constant, watchful eyes of the golden-eyed protector beside him.